


The Adventures of Turnip

by Sweetbeeps



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), F/F, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Role-Playing Game, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Stormcloaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetbeeps/pseuds/Sweetbeeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping the wreckage of her life in the Summerset Isle, Taanyd seeks a new beginning in Skyrim. But when she gets mistakenly arrested by Imperial soldiers  with a group of Stormcloak rebels (and renamed due to the extreme ineptitude of the humans around her), her life is turned upside down. Dragged into a civil war and finding herself with the strange ability to absorb dragon souls, Taanyd struggles to make a new life for herself and find out where her loyalties lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Skyrim, of course, belongs to Bethesda.

Taanyd slept fitfully, as she had since leaving what was left of her home on the Summerset Isles. Now she tossed and turned in her bedroll, the ground rough and cold beneath her, the fire she’d lit to keep away bears and sabre cats away gone to embers while she dreamed. She cried out in her sleep, and then woke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat despite the chill night air.

                Groaning, she sat up and rubbed her sore shoulders and neck. She stretched out her hand and let a lazy blast of her Flame spell wash over the embers, renewing the fire to crackling once more before tossing in a few branches from the pile she’d collected earlier. She frowned and tried to push her nightmares from her mind, knowing it would do her no good to dwell on them.

                The faintest hint of dawn had begun to creep over the horizon. She doubted her ability to fall back asleep, despite how travel weary she was, and decided on an earlier start than she originally planned. Her last night in Elinhir had been uneventful, but she was ready to quit Hammerfell for her final destination.

                _Though,_ her cynical thoughts crept in, _why you think you’ll fare any better, or find a true home in Skyrim is beyond me. You’ll be just as much of a failure there as anywhere else._

                Taanyd snorted at herself and dug an apple out of her pack. She watched as the stars and the night began to sky flee before the sun’s light and when she grew tired of simply sitting and could see well enough without a torch, she packed up her little camp and moved on.

                The morning was turning out to be cloudy, but warm, with a low fog rolling in. After a few quiet hours of hiking and a snack of freshly killed and cooked rabbit (praise the gods she had at least mastered the simple Flame spell well enough to feed herself), the border of Skyrim was finally in sight.

                A moderately sized guard post flanked both sides of the road leading from Elinhir over the border of Skyrim and into Falkreath. This early in the morning, all was relatively quiet, and through the fog she could see a few guards patrolling the catwalk the bridged the two buildings.

She patted a pocket of her plain blue robes to be sure she still had her papers. She patted her braid and wished for a mirror, hoping she didn’t appear too wild or unkempt. _Nothing to see here, just your average traveler._

She set off again and as she neared the outpost a troop of guards came pouring out of one of the buildings, drawing their swords and shouting. A spark of panic ignited in her chest, but was quickly extinguished when the group ran to the left of the guard post and into the nearby trees.

                A shout of alarm rang through the woods and Taanyd could hear the sound of metal on metal and the frightened screams of horses.

                Curiosity getting the better of her, Taanyd stepped off the dirt road and through the trees for a better look. The swarm of armed guards in steel plate armor she’d seen running from the barracks rushed to meet a group of men and women wearing rough leathers and blue tunics. Cries of “for the Emperor” and “for the Nords” rang through the trees.

                She’d caught wind of a rebel uprising during her travels but hadn’t given it much thought or understood how serious it had become. She crept further forward while weighing her chances of slipping over the border unseen while the guards were otherwise occupied.

                A majority of the guards were running towards a tight cluster of the rebels in blue, swords drawn and the occasional Flame or Spark spell visible in hand.

                “Ulfric must be stopped!” Their cries grew louder as Taanyd continued to creep forward. “Get him, men, _now_!”

                _Ulfric?  Ulfric Stormcloak,_ leader _of the rebellion is here now?_ Taanyd began rethinking her plan to enter Skyrim. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in this mess. But as wise as it would be to leave immediately, she found herself rooted to the spot, squinting through the fog and fully absorbed in the small battle taking place before her.

                She watched a particularly large Imperial soldier swung his greatsword at one of the rebels. The woman was quick to raise her shield, but the force of the soldier’s blow cracked in clean in half. She threw a piece at his face, but he swatted it away and swept the woman off her feet with a swift kick. Then he was towering over her and with an effortless thrust, drove the point of his sword through her throat. The woman’s body convulsed and though Taanyd wasn’t close enough to hear the sound of the woman’s life gurgling out of her throat, she could imagine it. The soldier pulled his sword from the rebel’s neck as he stepped over her body and immediately took a swing at another rebel.

                Taanyd felt sick.

                While smaller groups of rebels fought the soldiers throughout the surrounding woods, most of them gathered around a tall man who she knew must be Ulfric. Even through the mist Taanyd could see he cut an imposing figure. He moved fluidly among his supporters, the rebels dancing around each other and their leader in a complex knot to strike at the soldiers surrounding them. Though badly outnumbered, it was clear the rebels had skill.

                When the majority of the guards had moved to attack Ulfric’s group, his allies moved to flank his back, leaving his front exposed to the mob of Imperials. Staring wide-eyed through the trees, Taanyd first thought he was going to surrender, but then Ulfric raised his hands to the sky and began to Shout.

 “ _Fus, roh_ -” A strong wind whipped through the trees and the soldiers nearest Ulfric were bowled over before he’d even finished. Even Taanyd felt the force of his Shout – unthinking, she’d crept closer to the melee.

Before Ulfric could finish, a determined Imperial who’d been knocked down close to Ulfric sent a well-aimed Lightning Bolt right to the man’s throat and the force knocked him off his feet.

                The Imperials who hadn’t been knocked down swarmed forward as their comrades jumped back to their feet. The force overwhelmed the remaining cluster of rebels gathered around Ulfric’s prone body.

                The rebels fought bravely, taking the lives of several more Imperials, but were quickly overpowered. Most were killed but a few were tied up and hauled off towards the barracks where the guards had taken Ulfric.

Taanyd, knowing she should have left the area long ago, made the decision to spend another night in Hammerfell and cross the border on the morrow.

                She was brought out of her reverie by something coming at her through the trees from where the rebels had made their stand. A man was running at her full force, looking back over his shoulder at the occupied Imperials. Taanyd yelped, but took late, and the man collided with her, sending them both flying. She knocked her head on a nearby tree and then a rock as she hit the ground. Blackness took her.

**~**

                _The boat was rocking gently, despite the storm raged around her. The sky was dark, devoid of even the moon’s light and massive waves broke over the sides and smashed into her. Rain and waves lashed at her plastering her hair and clothes to her body. Frantically searched for the crew and for Lillith, but the deck was deserted._

_“Fus roh!” She called out, but a howling wind took her words._

_She braced herself against the mast as another massive wave hit the ship._

_“For Ulfric!” someone shouted as a man came out of the storm and knocked her off her feet, slamming her into the deck._

                The carriage hit a rock that jostled Taanyd out of her stupor. Her head ached something fierce and it took the world several moments to come into focus. The sun was high and bright, all the fog burned away, causing her to blink stupidly. She was seated in the back of an open carriage with a handful of men, mostly Nords by the look of them. Her hands, resting in her lap, were bound before her, wrists tied up tight with coarse rope that chafed her skin. Her robes were gone, replaced with tattered rags. Her thoughts were still slow and her mind was too busy piecing together what had happened to her to worry about what few possessions had been taken from her.  Ahead of them, three more carriages were filled with more prisoners and soldiers.

                The man across from her spoke, his heavy accent an indication that he was a Nord. “Hey, you,” He nodded at her. “You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?” He paused, waiting for Taanyd to respond, but speech was still beyond her. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.” He tilted his head to his left, indicating the dark haired Breton next to him, who sported the same tattered rags Taanyd wore.

                “Damn you Stormcloaks!” The thief spat at the blonde Nord’s feet. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way through Hammerfell! You there,” he turned to Taanyd. “You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!”

                _The Empire?_ Taanyd’s memory came back to her – the battle she’d witnessed at the border of Skyrim between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials, Ulfric shouting, someone rushing at her and knocking her to the ground. She’d been arrested with the rebels!

                The men were still talking, ignoring her now.

                “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” the Nord grunted, shifting in his seat and trying his best to loosen the bonds at his own wrists.

                “Shut up back there!” one of the soldiers driving the carriage shouted over his shoulder.

                They were all quiet for a moment. Taanyd narrowed her eyes at the thief – it was he who’d bowled her over in the woods and brought her into this mess! Her hands itched to summon her Flame spell and torch the filthy Breton, but she knew the guards would cut her down before she could accomplish much more than that. Still, she’d likely be doing everyone a favor.

                The horse thief nodded towards the large man in a fur lined blue coat to Taanyd’s right. His dirty blond hair was long, with a thick braid on one side that ended with a large blue bead. He had a strong profile, with a sharp notes and jaw, giving him a hawkish look. He was hunched over, his hands and feet manacled together, yet he did not look defeated. A bloodstained rag was tied tightly over his mouth.

                “What’s wrong with him?” the horse thief asked the Nord.

                The Nord leaned sharply to his left and hit the thief with his shoulder. “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!”

                Taanyd’s jaw dropped in shock. The man beside her was Ulfric? No wonder the Imperials had gagged and manacled him while the rest of them were only bound with rope.

                The horse thief was equally shocked. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion! But if they’ve captured you…” He put his face in his hands. “Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

                The Nord looked at the thief solemnly. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

                Beside Taanyd, Ulfric nodded.

                The thief’s voice rose a few octaves as panic set in. “No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.” He began shaking his head and muttering to himself.

                After a moment, the Nord nudged the man’s shoulder, somewhat gently. “Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

                “Why do you care?”

                “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.” The Nord gave a quick glance in Taanyd’s direction. She frowned at him.

                “Rorikstead. I’m…I’m Lokir, from Rorikstead.” The horse thief – Lokir – whimpered and raised his face to the sky. He began to mumble again. “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”

                Taanyd’s own panic was rising, but at least she had the dignity to stay quiet.

                They were jostled about rather roughly as the carriage crossed from the dirt road onto cobbled streets and Taanyd realized they’d reached their destination. A small town – if it even warranted that title – rose up around them, comprised mostly of wood huts with thatched roofs, and a large tower some way ahead that may have been a church.

                A soldier in the street called out to the lead wagon. “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is ready and waiting!”

                Taanyd couldn’t hear the General’s response over the blood pounding in her ears. Headsman? Surely she wouldn’t be executed with a bunch of rebels without even a trial? She knew humans weren’t as intelligent as her own kind, but they must have some sort of justice system in place, even in so rural a town as this.

                The Nord spoke to Taanyd, nodding his head towards the first wagon, which had come to a stop underneath the shadow of the stone tower. “Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor.” She spied an older man in gleaming steel armor decorated with fine leather, holding an elaborate helm under one arm and looking rather bored. “It looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”

                Taanyd cleared her throat and glared at him, raising her tied hands to tap a finger against one of her pointed ears. The Nord had the courtesy to look abashed.

                “This is Helgen,” he continued, while Lokir maintained his jumbled prayer to all the gods under the sun. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in…” His eyes took on a distant look for a moment, then he shook his head. “Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

                Taanyd felt far from safe now. The shadow of the rounded tower fell over their carriage as it jerked to a halt. Her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing and she itched to set everyone around her on fire, if only she was powerful enough. Lillith’s voice crept into her mind, chastising her for never studying hard enough, but she quickly pushed it away.

                The stop brought Lokir out of his prayers. “Why are we stopping?”

                The Nord glared at Lokir as he and Ulfric stood. “Why do you _think?_ End of the line. Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

                Lokir stood, looking around frantically. “No! Wait! We’re not rebels!” He hastily pointed to Taanyd. She supposed she should appreciate the gesture, but didn’t wish to be lumped in with the stinking thief. She wished the guards had gagged him as well.

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

                A gate at the back of the carriage was let down and the rebels began filing out. They were surrounded by Imperial soldiers and townspeople, eager to watch the beheadings. Taanyd was no prude, but she’d never understood the appeal of public executions; watching someone die was no sport.

                Lokir was first off the cart and turned to the Nords as they disembarked. “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

                A nearby onlooker snickered at Lokir’s blatant fear. Despite her hatred of the thief for causing her current situation, she would have gladly punched the village man had her hands been free to do so. She’d like to see him remain calm while his fat arse faced execution.

                A male and female officer approached their group. The man unfurled a list.

                “Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!” the woman shouted.

                Taanyd found herself standing next to the blond Nord. He leaned towards her, a small smile quirking his lips. “Empire loves their damn lists.”

                The officer holding the list shouted for Ulfric.

                The blonde Nord place his hands briefly on his Jarl’s shoulders. “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!”

                Ulfric nodded back at the man, then gave him a quick wink. Or had Taanyd imagined it?

                The officer continued to read off names and the rebels stepped forward one by one. The first carriage had already been emptied and the prisoners read their last rites. Taanyd could now hear the wet slice of the executioner’s axe and the dull chunk as it struck through the neck of its victim and into the wooden stump they rested on, but refused to look.

                “Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead.” The officer continued his roll call.

                The Nord, Ralof, gave her a small salute and stepped towards the queue at the block.

                Lokir’s shouts brought Taanyd’s attention back to him. He had stepped up to the two officers and was frantically waving his arms.

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” He shoved past the surprised Imperials and began running down the street.

“Halt!” The female captain barked.

“You’re not going to kill me!” Lokir shouted as he ran. A few of the townsfolk clapped and whistled.

The captain turned to a nearby solider. “Archer.” She nodded.

A single arrow zipped through the air, finding its mark in Lokir’s throat. His body stumbled and rolled forward with the last of its momentum, then lay broken in the street. The villagers cheered.

As much as Taanyd had wanted to murder him en route, she felt no sense of victory from his death.

The captain turned back to the crowed of prisoners. “Anyone else feel like running?”

The officer beside her was looking down at his list, then up at Taanyd, then back down at his list. “Wait,” he looked at Taanyd as he spoke. “You there. Step forward. Who are you?”

She approached the pair, the stones sharp beneath her bare feet, aware of everyone’s eyes on her. Now was when they would realize their error and release her. She wanted to be giddy, but was instead wary. She disliked the way the female officer was glaring at her.

“I am Taanyd, of the Summerset Isle. Come recently to Skyrim for…work.” Her voice was low and rough, clumsy from lack of water and – she hated to admit it – raw fear.

The officer glanced at his list again. “You’re not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf?” He turned to the small group of Thalmor gathered near the tower, farthest away from the prisoners. None spoke, though one in the front shook his head. They’d not extend even a pinky finger to help her, because in their eyes she was as low as the humans surrounding them – they knew immediately she wasn’t one of their own.

She bristled under their gaze. Thalmor scum were precisely why she’d fled her home and why she’d… _No, now is not the time of think of Lillith_ , she scolded herself.

“What was your name again, elf?”

“Taanyd.” She croaked.

“Turnip?” He scanned his list, the female officer looking over his shoulder. “I don’t see a Turnip on here…” he mumbled to himself.

“Turnip?” He scanned his list, the female officer looking over his shoulder. “I don’t see a Turnip on here…” he mumbled to himself.

“What? That’s not my name. It’s-“

The officer ignored her, turning to his associate. “Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list?”

“Forget the list,” she spat. “She goes to the block.”

“By your orders, captain.” The male officer looked up at Taanyd and gave her a small shrug. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset Isle.”

Taanyd shook her bound wrists before her, a silent plea for the man to cut her bonds. “ _My remains_? Now wait a moment, you said for yourself I’m not on your damn list. You can’t just kill me!”

The man’s face was grim, but he made no move to help her. “Follow the captain, prisoner.”

“You’re jesting! You can’t simply kill a person for no reason! I’m not on your list! At least tell me my crime!” She was too frightened to be ashamed of her fear now.                

The female captain grabbed Taanyd’s arm roughly. “Let’s go, _Turnip_.”

“That’s _not_ my – “ Taanyd was cut off as the captain shoved her roughly into the group of prisoners surrounding the bloody block and took her place beside the general. She felt into Ralof and he gave her a sad smile as he steadied her.

“So much for their bloody lists.” She murmured.


	2. Divine Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine falls out of the frying pan and into the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skryim belongs to Bethesda. 
> 
> I'm following my character's gameplay, so bear with me as she travels through the beginning cutscenes and beginning tutorial dungeon we all know and love (re:hate)

The general was addressing the group gathered around him, but staring at Ulfric, who stood at the fore, with blatant hatred.

“Ulfric Stormcloak,” General Tullius bellowed. “ _Some_ here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to _murder_ his king and _usurp his throne_!” Tullius glared at the townsfolk, daring any to speak on behalf of the rebels.

Ulfric grunted through his gag.

Tullius took a step forward and pointed at Ulfric, his finger inches from the rebel’s face. “ _You_ started this war, plunged Skyrim into _chaos_ and now the Empire is going to _put you down_ and restore the peace!” Spittle flecked from his lips.

A strange, deep noise echoed down the mountains. It sent shivers running up Taanyd’s spine and Ralof looked at her questioningly. She shrugged. The other rebels and even the townsfolk were looking all around, trying to find the source.

The officer with the list spoke up. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing, Hadvar,” said Tullius. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius,” said the female captain. She gestured to a nearby priestess. “Give them their last rites.”

The priestess of Arkay, shrouded in her golden robes, raised her hands above her head as one of the rebels stepped up to the block. “As we command your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved – “

The waiting rebel shouted, interrupting the priestess. “For the love of Talos, _shut up_ and let’s get this over with!”

The priestess turned to Tullius, who nodded. She looked frustrated, but stepped aside mumbling, “As you wish.”

The rebel knelt before the block and looked up at the executioner. “Come on, I haven’t got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

Beside Taanyd, Ralof made a little grunt of approval.

The female captain pushed the Stormcloak down onto the bloody block with a foot to his back. With a grunt, the hooded executioner brought his axe high above his head. Taanyd wanted to look away but her eyes were glued to the scene before her, as the axe came down and with a sickening squelch, separated the Stormcloak’s head from its body. Blood spurted everywhere as the man’s head rolled into a wooden basket on the other side of the block and Taanyd felt the bile rising at the back of her throat. With a careless kick, the Imperial captain tipped the man’s body off the block.

From within the crowd of prisoners, a female shouted, “You Imperial bastards!”

Answering shouts came from the villagers. “Justice! Death to the Stormcloaks!”

“As fearless in death as he was in life.” Ralof murmured.

Taanyd knew she’d not be able to face death so bravely. She was already using all her willpower to keep herself from shaking.

The female captain turned to the crowd of prisoners. “Next, the high elf!”

A low moan escaped Taanyd’s lips. Her pulse quickened and her feet seemed turned to stone. Ralof’s hand found her own and gripped it for the briefest of moments.

The strange cry echoed through the skies again; it sounded closer than it had before. The crowd began to mumble and many searched the skies once more.

“There it is again!” Hadvar cried. “Did you hear that?”

The captain ignored him, instead pointing a finger at Taanyd. “I said next, Turnip!”

Hadvar took a step towards Taanyd, a hand on the hilt of his sword. “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

She want to refuse, thinking maybe he’d cut her down where she stood and end it all before she truly realized what was happening. But her feet obeyed Hadvar’s command and she took a few slow steps forward, straw matted with blood crinkling beneath her feet.

She could smell the corpses of the rebels piled nearby. The executioner, a tower of a man clad in black leather and furs wore a belt of small skulls around his bulging waist, and held his axe at the ready. The female captain looked almost gleeful as Taanyd arrived at the block which was slick with the gore of those who’d gone before her.

Taanyd’s eyelids fluttered at the site of the severed heads in the wooden bin, their skin pale and sightless eyes staring at her. The female captain forced Taanyd to her knees with a crushing grip on her shoulder. Internally, Taanyd screamed at herself to fight back, instead her shoulders sagged in defeat under the pressure of the captain’s hand.

The captain moved her hand to the back of Taanyd’s neck, forcing her face towards the block. Taanyd turned her head at the last moment so she was staring up at the executioner and the stone tower behind him, her cheek pressed into the slimy, gelatinous blood that coated the top of the block. She thought perhaps she should pray, but her mind was numb, disconnected. She tried to at least picture Lillith, but her mind was blank.

The sound from the sky came again; this time clearly the roar of a very large beast, and a moment later a dark shape swooped overhead, casting a shadow over everyone gathered before the tower.  

Taanyd could hear Tullius shouting behind her. “What in Oblivion is that?!”

The female captain’s hand left Taanyd’s neck as she shouted at the sentries for reports.

“It’s in the clouds!” Came a shout. Followed by, “Dragon!”

A rush of wind came down so hard that it knocked the executioner off his feet and pinned Taanyd painfully to the block. A humongous dragon landed atop the stone tower, the impact shaking the ground. Its head, mottled grey and horned, was aimed down at the crowd and its gleaming yellow eyes looked hungrily at the panicked masses. Huge wings, tipped with claws, clung to the crenellations, rocks crumbling beneath its weight. One large chunk fell on one of the soldiers as he ran past, crushing his skull with a wet thud.

Taanyd watched, wide-eyed, as the executioner scrabbled to his feet. Everyone was shouting and the Imperials were swarming the tower, swords raised and archers firing off arrows as fast as they could. With another blast of air the dragon Shouted and the executioner fell back again – this time he didn’t get back up.  

Taanyd could hear the townsfolk screaming behind her. Tullius was shouting at the top of his lungs in order to be heard over the cries of his men and the roars of the dragon. “Don’t just stand there, kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!”

The dragon Shouted again, another powerful blast and Taanyd was knocked off the block, rolling along the rough stones. Chaos broke out around her, the powerful Shouts from the dragon roaring through her skull. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, crawling forward blindly, her head aching and her vision blurred. Someone tripped over her, kicking her hard in the ribs and falling onto the stones nearby.

She blinked furiously to clear her eyes, the ground shaking beneath her as the dragon began to spit fireballs into the crowd.

She thought she heard someone call her name.

Finally her eyesight cleared and she saw Ralof, crouching nearby. “Hey, Turnip. Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance.” He waved for her to follow him and then turned to run towards a nearby building. Taanyd struggled to her feet and stumbled after him.

A fireball torpedoed into the cobbles to her left, singeing her skin. She screamed and redoubled her efforts, now running to catch up with Ralof, though her bound hands made it awkward. She desperately wished she was merely caught in a nightmare, but her aching body and the anguished screams of those around her told her otherwise.

Breathless, she tripped up the steps and into a small stone tower where a handful of rebels had gathered with Jarl Ulfric. One of the rebels was tending his fellows who were huddled on the floor, moaning in pain. One woman was covered in blood. Ralof handed Taanyd a rag and clutched it in both hands, wiping the grime and blood off her face.

“Jarl Ulfric!” The relief in Ralof’s voice was apparent. Ulfric smiled at Ralof, the gag gone from his mouth and his shackles removed as well. “What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages. We need to move, now!” Ulfric’s voice was deep and steady, but it was clear to Taanyd he was unsure of their survival.

“Up through the tower,” Ralof suggested. “Let’s go! This way, friend.” He motioned for Taanyd to follow as he and Ulfric ran up the steps.

Another Stormcloak soldier was already at the top of the landing, struggling to shift some rocks from the next set of stairs that had fallen when part of the roof caved in. “We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!”

Without warning, the side of the tower exploded inward, stones flying. One hit Taanyd on the shoulder and knocked her down a few steps. Ralof tumbled back as well, catching himself before he went head over heels. The dragon’s head filled the opening and it screeched “Toor shul!” as it released a spout of flames into the area. The soldier who’d been clearing the rocks was incinerated before he could even cry out. 

As quickly as it had arrived, the dragon was gone, off to burn more of Helgen. Ralof helped Taanyd to her feet and tentatively approached the hole in the wall. Ulfric, who’d been thrown behind another pile of rocks, was alive and looked only mildly scorched.

Ralof pointed to the decimated building beside their tower. The roof was mostly gone, and what remained was afire. “See that inn? Jump through the roof and keep going.”

Taanyd turned to him, eyes wide. “Are you serious? I can’t make that jump!”

Ralof placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her to the jagged opening in the tower wall. The inn was some feet below the opening in the tower and the gap between the buildings felt insurmountable. Taanyd’s head swam.

Nearby the dragon roared.

“Go!” Ralof urged. “We’ll follow you when we can.”

Taanyd took a deep breath, backed up a few paces, then took a running leap out of the tower before she could properly think about what she was doing. Hollering, she hit the second floor of the building with a thud, unable to properly stop herself due to her bonds, and sprained her right ankle before tumbling ass over elbow.

Stunned, she lay on the floor a moment. A clump of burning thatch dropped to the floor beside her, motivating her to keep moving. Shaking slightly, she got to her feet and then limped forward amidst overturned tables, crushed shelves and bits of broken and burning furniture. There was something that looked a lot like a charred corpse in the corner of the room that she willed herself to ignore.

There was a hole in the ground where the stairs had been and Taanyd dropped down, her ankle giving way beneath her. She clutched the charred doorframe with both hands and stared out at the ruin of the town. Smoke clouded the sky and the majority of the buildings were on fire. Bodies were strewn over the ground, many charred, and while most remaining townspeople and soldiers were in hiding, a few darted in between buildings.

 The dragon was still roaring overhead and she could hear the swoop of its wings as it dove nearby. As she emerged from the building, wondering where in all the hells she was supposed to go next, she caught sight of Hadvar and couple other Imperial soldiers crouching with swords drawn as they called to a nearby child.

“Haming,” Hadvar shouted to the boy, “You need to get over here now! Thataboy! You’re doing great!”              

A dark haired boy, no older than ten, ran towards Hadvar, as the dragon landed some feet away, distracted by a soldier who’d come out of another building.

“Torolf!” Hadvar shouted as the dragon leaned forward and shot another blast of flame at the soldier. Hadvar looked away. “Gods…everyone get back!”

The dragon launched itself into the sky and Hadvar and his little group huddled behind the remains of another burnt house. He noticed Taanyd as she approached.

“Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” Taanyd was too weary and frightened to be annoyed by his attitude. Hadvar turned to another solider. “Gunmar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense.”

“Gods guide you, Hadvar.” Said Gunmar, giving a little salute.

Taanyd started to ask him to cut the ropes binding her wrists, but Hadvar had already started running, waving a hand over his shoulder for her to follow. She hesitated only a moment, knowing that, unarmed and unfamiliar with the town, she wasn’t likely to survive on her own.

Taanyd darted forward, surprised by how fast Hadvar could run in all his armor. She dodged around the body of the blackened Imperial soldier and followed Hadvar across a wooden footbridge behind a large building.

Hadvar shouted “Stay close to the wall!” over his shoulder, and then flattened himself into the large stone wall that ringed the city. Taanyd blindly obeyed his orders and was glad she did, for seconds later her whole world shook as the dragon landed on the wall above them. The beast’s spike-tipped wings slammed down into the ground where Taanyd had previously been standing, and the leathery wings pinned her to the wall.

She and Hadvar stayed crouched behind the dragon’s wing, only inches from its scaly surface, as the beast shot another bout of flame into the already burning building before them. The dragon’s voice was deep and rumbling and Taanyd heard the words “Vol toor shul!” and though she had no earthly idea of their meaning, they terrified her.

The creature remained unaware of the two tasty morsels tucked safely behind its wing as it flew off to wreak more havoc upon the decimated town.

Hadvar started forward again, urging Taanyd to keep up. The raced through the wreckage of the town, Taanyd barely aware of the pain as she stepped on burning chunks of wood, and emerged onto the main thoroughfare where a small group of Imperials were still attempting to make a stand against the dragon.  A villager missing a leg wailed in agony in the middle of the cobbled street and Taanyd briefly wished someone would put him out of his misery.

Hadvar glanced back to be sure she was still following. “It’s you and me, prisoner, stay close.”

Taanyd kept pace with him and they ran under a stone archway and into a small courtyard in front of a squat stone keep. The dragon circled low overhead and a few archers below the arch and one atop it fired arrows at it, though it did them little good.

“How in Oblivion do we kill this thing?” she heard one of the arches shout as she passed by.

The general was at the other end of the courtyard. He shouted to Hadvar. “Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!”

Ralof and a bloodied Stormcloak solider swarmed over a crumbling section of the wall to the left, cutting Hadvar and Taanyd off from Tullius and the few men he’d gathered.

“Ralof!” Hadvar shouted, holding his sword at the ready. “You damned traitor, out of my way!”

Ralof’s own sword was drawn. “We’re escaping, Hadvar! You’re not stopping us this time!”

Hadvar stared at Ralof a moment, but another roar from the dragon seemed to drain the fight out of him. “Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.”

Ralof looked over Hadvar’s shoulder to where Taanyd crouched, panting from exertion and no small amount of fear. “Come on! Into the keep!”

Hadvar turned to face her. “With me, prisoner! Let’s go!” He motioned towards a far door where Tullius and his men had gone. “Come on! We need to get inside.”

Taanyd sidestepped Hadvar, her anger finally flaring up through her fear. “I have a _name_!” She spat at his feet and then brought both hands up under her chin, brushing her fingers outward towards him in a rude gesture.

Hadvar surmised her meaning, though he looked surprised. Nearby, Ralof laughed as his comrade limped over to another door of the keep.

Hadvar shook his head and ran down the courtyard after his men and Taanyd ran over to where Ralof was waiting to open the door for her.

“You’ve got spirit, friend,” he chuckled.


	3. Dungeons 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the inescapable starter dungeon....where Taanyd gets some revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918

Taanyd darted inside the keep, cringing as the dragon swooped low over the courtyard. The sound of fireballs roaring through the sky and the pained screams of the remaining soldiers were cut off as Ralof slammed the heavy wooden door.

                He rushed past her to where his fellow soldier lay sprawled on the stone floor, surrounded by a puddle of blood. He knelt at the man’s side and touched his arm.

                “We’ll meet again in Sovngarde, brother.” He stood and turned to Turnip, blood and grime caked to his face, his expression one of exhaustion. “Looks like we’re the only ones who made it.”

                Taanyd let out a deep sigh. Her whole body ached something fierce.

                “That thing was a dragon!” He began to pace back and forth across the cobbled floor. “No doubt. Just like the children’s stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times.” Ralof shook his head. “We better get moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those bindings off.”

                Taanyd stepped forward, biting back a comment about how cutting her bindings would have been a hell of a lot more useful had he done it before urging her to jump out of a tower and into a burning building. She held out her chafed wrists and Ralof took out a dagger and hacked away at the thick ropes.

                When the ropes split Taanyd rubbed her raw wrists. “My thanks.”

                Ralof gestured down to the dead Stormcloak. “May as well take Gunjar’s gear….he won’t be needing it anymore. Just get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I’m going to see if I can find some way out of here.”

                Ralof trotted across the circular room to check one of two gates that barred the stone archways that led further into the keep. Taanyd knelt down next to Gunjar’s body and awkwardly began stripping the man of his armor and boots. There were several cuts along his arms and legs and a big gash running down the side of his head, but his armor was relatively clean, excepting the large blood stain that had soaked through the leather at the back of his cuirass. Silently she thanked him for his possessions, knowing she couldn’t continue her journey in the thin rags she was currently wearing.

                A small burst of anger flared up when she remembered how those damn Imperial soldiers had not only stolen all her possessions, but stripped her as well! Then she remembered that the majority of them had been roasted alive by the dragon and she felt a little better.

                Having stripped Gunjar of his cuirass and leather boots, she removed her own dirty shift and dropped it to the floor.

                She heard a strangled grunt behind her and turned to see Ralof staring at her, his face beet red.

                “This, uh…” he thumbed over his shoulder at the gate behind him. “This one’s locked and I don’t…I couldn’t find a way to open…let’s…just see…about that gate.” He looked down at his feet as he walked quickly past her nakedness and began fumbling with the other gate.

                Taanyd chuckled, having no qualms about immodesty, and donned the leather and blue cloth cuirass. It was too wide, as it was made for a man, though a bit short due to how tall Altmer were compared to most other races, but she was at least able to tighten the straps around her waist. The boots were too large as well, so she ripped up her old rags into strips and stuffed them into the toes of the boots to keep her feet from sliding around.

                Periodically muffled noises from the dragon echoed through the keep. _Would the beast never tire?_ Turnip thought sourly.

Once she felt comfortable enough she picked up his iron war axe and swung it about a few times. It was heavy, but not overly so – she figured she could manage, though she wasn’t sure how useful she’d be if she and Ralof were badly outnumbered.

                Ralof was still facing the gate, absentmindedly rattling the bars and checking the surrounding stones for hidden switches. “Damn,” he mumbled to himself. “No way to open this from our side.”

                “I’m decent.” Taanyd called.

                Ralof turned around, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He still had a hard time meeting her eyes and she chuckled again.

                “Really? A brave rebel solider who recently escaped Imperial forces and death by dragon’s flame is intimidated by a naked woman?”

                Ralof couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, when you put it like that…”

                “Thank you for looking out for me.”

                Ralof nodded. “Of course, Turnip. The Imperials like to give us Stormcloaks a bad name, but we’re not the heartless scum they make us out to be. You were innocent, and Talos saw fit to spare you; why should we not work to assist him?”

                “Where are Ulfric and the others?”

                “We split up to better avoid capture. He’ll be making his way back to Windhelm with a few select soldiers. The rest of us will head back to our homes, lay low for a while.”

                “Wise plan. Oh, and it’s Taanyd by the way, my name.”

                Ralof looked puzzled. “Is that not what I said? Turnip?”

                Taanyd sighed. “No, it’s pronounced Tah-nid.”

                “Tarnip?” Ralof’s heavy Nordic accent butchered the delicate syllables of her name. “Tahnip?”

                Taanyd shook her head. “Never mind. Turnip is fine.” She was trapped in a keep in an unfamiliar city with a dragon attempting to burn down everything it saw and she was worried about the humans pronouncing her name correctly?

                Ralof opened his mouth to say something when a shout came from the hall blocked by the gate he stood near.

                “Come on, soldier! Keep moving.”

                Ralof crouched instantly and whispered. “It’s the Imperials! Take cover!”

Taanyd scanned the small room. Aside from a little wooden table and a few chairs near Gunjar’s now naked body, there was nothing for her to take cover behind. Ralof pressed himself into a moss-covered column to the left of the gate, so Taanyd did the same on the other side; clutching her axe in her right hand and readying her Flame spell in her left.

Her heart had finally calmed since coming into the keep and away from the threat of the dragon’s jaws, but now it beat wildly once more.

                She could hear their steel boots clanking across the stones as the group approached the gate.

                “Get this gate open!” Taanyd recognized that voice. It was the female captain!

                The Flame spell in her hand burned brighter as her anger rose. The gate creaked as it slid down into the floor and the captain and one solider stepped into the room.

                “Imperial scum!” Ralof yelled as he launched himself forward, sword swinging.

                “The captain is mine!” Taanyd shouted as she slashed at the soldier’s face with her axe and dodged his own swing.

                Ralof parried a blow from the captain’s sword and then dropped to the ground to roll out of the way as Taanyd let a blast of her Flames go. Heat and fire surged forward from her palm and she aimed directly at the woman’s face. The captain screamed but continued to blindly slash forward with her sword. The plume on her steel helmet caught fire, as did the leather embellishments of her armor, and though Taanyd could smell charred skin, the captain fought on.

                Turnip could feel her Magicka draining but still she let the Flames fly, her anger overcoming her good sense. The captain lunged forward through the fire, but Taanyd didn’t dodge in time and steel bit into her left forearm, interrupting her focus on her Flame spell.

She cried out in pain and almost dropped her axe to clutch her arm, but recalled where she was just in time. The captain’s face was ravaged, skin crisp and weeping, eyes blind, but like a crazed animal she growled and continued to blindly swing her sword while stumbling forward.

Taanyd dodged another swing and then stepped inside the captain’s reach. She brought her axe across the woman’s neck with a savage swipe. Blood sprayed out from her charred skin and into Taanyd’s face and then the captain’s body dropped at Taanyd’s feet.

                Taanyd stumbled as her knees buckled, weak from her adrenaline rush and using too much Magicka too quickly. She clutched the side of the wooden table to stop herself from joining the bodies on the floor.

Nearby, Ralof finished off the other solider, then remained in the center of the room, panting. He looked at the messy remains of the captain and gave Taanyd a small nod.

“Good work, Turnip.”

Taanyd could only grunt in response. Still leaning on the table, Taanyd decided to use what little Magicka she had left for her Healing spell. An orb of golden light appeared in her left hand and a faint sound of wind chimes echoed through the air as the cut on her arm sealed itself and disappeared. She picked up the remains of her old rags and wiped the blood off her face, then tossed them to Ralof so he could do the same.

                “Maybe one of these Imperials has the key?” He approached the charred body of the captain and dug around in a little pouch on her belt. “Let’s see here…here we are, found a key!”

                He stood. “Let’s see if it opens that door.” He went back to the first gate he tried.

                Taanyd knelt by the body of the captain, still too enraged to be disgusted by what she’d done. She made quick work of looting the body, planning to sell the Imperial armor she’d found and liking the feel of the Imperial sword better than Gunjar’s little axe. She took all the gear and weapons from the other solider as well.

                The building shook then, the roar of the dragon echoing through the stone halls.

                Ralof had opened the gate with the key he’d found. “Come on Turnip, let’s get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads.”

                “Wait a moment,” Taanyd dashed down the hall where the Imperials had come from, her new sword at the ready. She emerged into a small barracks of sorts, one wall lined with beds, the other with shelves and tables. There were a few more swords hanging on a weapon rack and she grabbed those, as well as a handful of gold coins from the table, and a Potion of Minor Healing she found in a wooden chest at the foot of one of the beds.

                She dashed back down the hall to where Ralof waited and together they made their way further into the keep. After the pair jogged down a flight of stairs, they rounded a corner into a long stretch of hallway, lit by a few sputtering torches in metal stands. A heavy layer of dust clung in the air and Ralof crept forward cautiously.  

                A shout from the dragon echoed above them and their world shook. Both Ralof and Taanyd stumbled and fell while heavy stones crashed down from the ceiling. Taanyd instinctively curled her arms around her head.

A rush of hot air spewed dust and rock fragments forward and Taanyd shut her eyes. After a few moments the rumbling stopped and when the dust cleared, the hall had been completely blocked by the caved in ceiling.

                “Damn,” Ralof grumbled, brushing off his pants as he stood. “That dragon doesn’t give up easy.” He extended a hand and pulled Taanyd to her feet.

                Their only choice now was to head through a wooden door in the left wall. Ralof opened the door, revealing a storeroom of sorts, with a pile of wooden barrels and boxes in one corner and shelving in another. An archway led to another portion of the room and from there they heard voices.

                “Grab everything important and let’s move!” A male voice said. “The dragon is burning everything to the ground.”

                “Just need to grab some potions…” another man responded.

                “Imperials!” Ralof shouted and ran forward.

                Taanyd would have preferred a little stealth, but she charged forward, sword drawn, before she could overthink what was happening.

                Fortunately, the Imperials were once more in a pair and with the element of surprise, Ralof and Taanyd overtook them easily. Taanyd mustered up her Flame spell again, this time more aware of the drain on her Magicka. She hacked at the nearest solider with her sword while releasing short bursts of Flame and he soon fell to his knees begging for mercy, then flopped forward on his stomach, dead. Ralof had dispatched of the other solider with a particularly vicious blow to the face and when the man fell forward, Ralof grabbed his neck and twisted savagely.

                “See if you can find those potions they were talking about – we’ll need them.”

                Taanyd relieved both men of their armor and weapons and then rummaged through the shelves and barrels, grabbing a few Potions of Minor Healing and Magicka. Her limited inventory was filling fast, but she knew she would need gold if she made it out of his blasted keep alive, so she hoarded what little she could.

                Taanyd tossed Ralof another Potion of Minor Healing, which he pocketed. “Done? Let’s get moving.”

                Ralof pushed open another thick wooden door and they trotted down a flight of stairs. Rounding a corner, at the base of another set of stairs, Taanyd could see a metal cage in the corner of the room, containing what appeared to be a skeleton. The sound of metal clashing and human grunts echoed up from the chamber.

                “Troll’s blood!” Ralof cursed. “A torture room.”

                He tore down the stairs and Taanyd followed, clutching her sword in her sweaty hand.

                The two burst into the chamber to find a female Stormcloak facing off against two Imperial soldiers. She raised her shield to block the blow from one, while thrusting her sword into the stomach of the other.

                Ralof quickly attacked the nearest solider and Taanyd set to burning the one who’d just received a sword to the stomach. She felt her Flame spell growing slightly more powerful and once more chided herself for never really practicing her Magick before now.

                The female solider delivered a killing thrust to the Imperial as Taanyd finished roasting him, so she turned to the other solider and took a quick slice at his side, just as Ralof thrust his sword through the man’s leather armor and into his chest.

                The female solider sheathed her mace and wiped the sweat from her brow.

                “Is Jarl Ulfric with you?” Ralof asked her.

                Taanyd didn’t imagine Ulfric would cower in a corner while one of his soldiers fought, outnumbered, but kept her thoughts to herself as usual.

                The woman shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen him since the dragon showed up. You believe he still lives?”

                “Aye,” Ralof nodded. “Twas not lot ago we parted ways and we both know he’s a clever man.”

                Ralof wandered over to one of three metal cages that lined the left wall of the room. He pointed to the middle one. “Wait a second. It looks like there’s someone in this cage.” He rattled the door but it remained shut. He turned to Taanyd. “See if you can get it open with some picks. We might need the gold on the floor once we get out. Grab anything else useful before we go.”

                The female solider offered to scout ahead, so Taanyd rummaged through the bodies of the dead soldiers and a rucksack she found on a small wooden table.  Inside the rucksack she found four lock picks and another Minor Healing potion. She also snatched an iron dagger off the table and briefly glanced at a black, clothbound tome inscribed with a strange dragon symbol and labeled _The Book of the Dragonborn_ , but left it behind, figuring it wouldn’t fetch a high price.

                Taanyd made her way over to the middle cage, torchlight flickering over her shoulder. Ralof stood nearby as she worked the pick into the lock.

                “You know, Ralof, I’ve never actually done this before.” She murmured as she fidgeted with the pick. She felt the lock turn slightly so she kept pushing and when it resisted she pushed harder, breaking the delicate pick. “Damn.”

                “Well, elf, neither have I, but I figure you’re far more clever.”

                Taanyd slid another pick into the lock. “Flatterer.”

                Ralof chuckled, then cheered when the lock opened with a soft click. “See! Clever Turnip!”

                Taanyd shook her head and made her way into the rusted cage, where a robed man slumped, dead. She scooped the four gold coins off the floor, along with another minor Magicka potion, which she drank immediately, grimacing at the bitter taste, but enjoying the strange, full feeling she received from having her Magicka restored.

                She was pleased to find a Spell Tome for Sparks next to what she now assumed to be a mage. She opened the book and immediately felt the power of the new spell surge through her, bonding to her Magicka. She summoned the spell in her left hand and let out a little bolt of electricity, enjoying the crackle it sent through her as it was released.

                Behind her, Ralof whistled. “Seems he should have read that book, eh?”

                “Indeed, he was a fool not to.” Taanyd did not mention her own foolishness in regards to  her lack of Magickal proficiency.

                She rummaged through the man’s pockets and was pleased to discover twenty-five gold pieces as well as a few more Magicka potions. She also stripped him of his Novice Robes and Hood, pleased with the Magicka boosts they would give her.

                She stepped out of the cage with robes in hand.

                Ralof glanced at the corpse, left only in his undergarments. “We’re leaving a slew of naked bodies in our wake.”

                “Waste not, want not!” Taanyd chirped. “Now, give me a moment so I can don these robes; they’ll boost my Magicka. You may want to avert your eyes.”

                Ralof coughed and wandered over to a large cage in the corner of the room that had a large wooden counter running along two of the sides and began rummaging through the shelves there.

                Taanyd quickly disrobed, storing the old Stormcloak armor in her inventory to sell, and slipped the blue Novice Robes over her head. She delighted in their softness and how lightweight they were and instantly noticed the extra Magicka. She pulled the hood over her dark hair, shadowing her face, and left on her leather boots and gloves. She would have to be a bit more careful now though, lacking any real armor protection.

                She turned around to find Ralof staring again, this time with slightly less embarrassment on his face and she winked at him. He held out a handful of lock picks that he’d found in the cage.

                “Can’t even tell you’re an elf under there.”

                “Good, perhaps it will keep others from instantly marking me as Thalmor. Should we press on?”

                Ralof nodded and led the way down a dark hallway, lined with cages built into the stone. Taanyd peeked in each one, but found them all empty, so didn’t bother picking the locks. Now was not the time to simply practice her newfound skill.

                They emerged from the hall into another torch-lit chamber with several metal cages hanging from the ceiling. Taanyd approached the first two, one of which contained a skeleton, the other a dead man wearing only rags, his legs dangling through the bars. Several other cages lie damaged on the floor. The female soldier was nowhere in sight.

                “She must have kept going, through here.” Ralof motioned to a large, jagged hole in the wall. A tunnel bore through the rock and down an incline lined with roughly hewn steps. Large stone braziers on wooden pedestals lit the tunnel periodically. Taanyd assumed this was another exit for those who routinely used the torture rooms.

                Arming herself with her Flames spell in one hand and Sparks in the other, Taanyd followed Ralof down into the cool, damp tunnel, rocky walls wet with moss and condensation.


	4. Imperials and Spiders and Bears, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd and Ralof continue to battle their way through Helgen's deadly keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose vidoes I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot.

Taanyd and Ralof cautiously made their way through the tunnel, the dusty air clouding their vision and strange, hollow sounds echoing around them. After a few minutes the tunnel floor transitioned from dirt back to cobbles and the walls  smoothed out to resemble those in the keep once more. The ceiling was no longer jagged rocks and dirt, but stone, crossed with heavy wooden beams and dripping with moss.

                Rounding a corner, they heard voices and found the female soldier crouched behind a pillar, mace drawn. She glanced over her shoulder and held a finger to her lips.

                Ralof and Taanyd crept to the soldier’s side.

                “The orders are to wait until General Tullius arrives.” One voice said.

                “ _I’m_ not waiting to be killed by a dragon!” Another responded.

                “Just give the general some time.” Argued the first voice.

                “Let’s go,” Ralof whispered, and took off towards the voices in a running crouch.

                “Wait-“ Taanyd started to argue, but the female Stormcloak followed Ralof, raising her mace as she ran. Taanyd cursed the headstrong Nords and their love for battle; didn’t anyone appreciate stealth?

                When Taanyd rounded the corner, Ralof and the Stormcloak woman were each engaged with an Imperial, while two more stood across the cavern, peppering them with arrows.

                She darted across a narrow stone bridge, slick from the spray of a small waterfall that burst through the wall and ran into a slim river that cut through the room. She lost her footing, but the female soldier was nearby and grabbed Taanyd’s sleeve to steady her. Taanyd returned the favor by releasing a burst of Sparks into the face of the Imperial the woman was fighting. The man stumbled backwards, blinded, and dropped his sword.

                Taanyd continued to unleash her spell as the female Stormcloak hacked at the man with her mace. With a groan he slumped to the ground and remained still, blood quickly pooling around him.

Ahead of them, Ralof finished off the solider he’d been sparring with. The two Imperials across the room continued to shoot arrows and one caught the female soldier in the left shoulder. She stumbled backward with a cry, then charged across the room, yelling fiercely.

                Ralof had taken a bow from a dead soldier and was firing arrows back at the other two as quickly as he could. An arrow still sprouting from her shoulder, the female Stormcloak pulled a dagger from her belt and chucked it at one of the archers. The Imperial dropped his bow to dodge the dagger and in doing so, gave the Stormcloak woman an opportunity to charge him. She swung her mace and connected with the man’s side.

                The other Imperial set aside his own bow and drew his sword to hack at the woman. Ralof shot off another arrow as he ran to help his comrade, but the shot went wide. Taanyd hung back, looking for an opportunity to send her magic into the fray without injuring her allies.

                Something shimmered on the ground before her and Taanyd realized a pool of oil had collected in the grooves and cracks of the floor. A thin stream in front of her led to a larger pool where the Stormcloaks were making their stand against the Imperials.

                “Ralof!” she shouted. He took a swing at the nearest Imperial, hacking at the man’s sword arm, before turning to face her.

                Taanyd pointed to the ground, hoping he’d notice the oil. “Move!”

                Ralof glanced at the oil at his feet and then nodded. He turned back to his fellow Stormcloak to pull her away from the soldiers, but the Imperial she was fighting had worn her out. He thrust his sword forward and she moved to dodge, but too slowly. The sword sank deep into her side and as she squirmed on the blade he ripped her mace from her hand and smashed it into her face.

                Ralof cried out but the woman’s body was already going slack, slowly sliding off the Imperial’s sword. While Ralof was distracted the second soldier lunged forward, slicing a deep cut into Ralof’s sword arm. His weapon fell to the stones at his feet with a clang.

                “Ralof!” Taanyd edged closer to the pool of oil, her Flame spell already burning in her palm. “Now!”

                Ralof stumbled more than stepped away from the oil and Taanyd released her spell. The oil ignited with a loud _whuff_ and a giant burst of flame sped forward as the rest of the oil caught. Taanyd jumped back, the edge of her robes singed. When the flames reached the pool near the Imperials it roared up, tendrils licking the ceiling, as it consumed the two men along with the female Stormcloak’s body.

                Ralof staggered further from the intense heat and Taanyd carefully moved around the flames to his side. Wordlessly, she handed him a Potion of Minor Healing and he drank it down as the two watched the fire burn.

                The oil burnt out quickly and once again the two were left in a room with corpses. Taanyd felt sick as she picked up a nearby bow and relieved one of the unburnt Imperials of his quiver of steel arrows. She’d never set out to kill anyone, and now look at her. But what choice did she have – it was kill or be killed and Taanyd was certainly not ready to die.

                _What would Lillith think of me now?_ She thought as she watched Ralof kneel next to his fallen solider and say a quick word of prayer.

                He stood, sheathing the woman’s mace on his belt along with his sword and slung an Imperial bow over his shoulder as well. Realizing that having a bow of her own wouldn’t be a bad idea, Taanyd went back to the first Imperial she and the Stormcloak woman had slain and relieved him of his bow and quiver of steel arrows. She then followed Ralof out of the room, silently wishing the Stormcloak woman well on her next journey as she passed the body. She hadn’t even known the woman’s name, but felt a bond with her after having fought side by side.

                The hall leading from the stone chamber was blocked by a wooden gate, but Ralof pulled a metal lever that was set into the ground and the gate dropped forward with a bang to form a bridge. As they crossed the bridge, Taanyd stepped into a beam of sunlight. She looked up and caught a glorious glimpse of the sky through an opening in the rocky ceiling. She desperately wished she could fly out of the damned keep. Ralof, guessing her thoughts, put a hand on her back and urged her forward.

                They left the sunlight and the brief breath of fresh air for another cavernous room, partly lined with cobblestones and partly carved from the earth. Stone steps led down to the muddy banks of the weak river that ran through the cave. Here and there the ceiling had caved in, allowing more precious sunlight to spill into the room, but primarily the light came from more stone braziers.

                Keeping her left hand armed with her Flames spell, a faint, lukewarm patch of fire hovering in her palm, Taanyd prepared to follow the river when a deep roar echoed through the keep. Both she and Ralof immediately crouched as the ground shook and the ceiling showered them with dirt and small rocks.

                A loud bang tore through the tunnel they’d just left, followed by another cloud of dirt and rubble. Taanyd moved back to the tunnel mouth where Ralof stood, only to find the way completely blocked by boulders.

                “Damn dragon!” Ralof grumbled. “No going back that way now. All we can do is push on. If there are any other survivors, they’ll have to find another way out.”

                Taanyd groaned. She was beginning to doubt if these caves and tunnels would ever lead to a way out for herself and Ralof.

                Taanyd turned and made her way down the steps to the riverbank. She and Ralof followed the shallow water to an archway in the wall. The riverbank ended at the wall and the pair had to step into the chilly water to continue. Mud squelched beneath their boots and the cold water numbed Taanyd’s toes almost instantly. Through the arch, the water continued through another crack in the wall and the path resumed, curving right around an outcropping of dirt and stone.

                On the little shelf of stone lay most of a skeleton, along with a lamp and a conveniently placed bag of coins. Ralof and Taanyd glanced at each other, then Ralof shrugged and gestured to the bag. Taanyd picked up the beige bag and peered inside. Five gold coins clanked together and she gratefully added them to her small cache. They were something, at least.

                They left the lantern, as they could see more sunlight filtering down the next stretch of the tunnel. Cautiously, the two moved on and Taanyd recalled her Flames spell once more while Ralof kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. The tunnel floor dipped, leading them down a steep path that opened once more into a large cave.

                Taanyd held up her hand to halt, a chill running down her spine. The sunlight filtering in through cracks and holes in the ceiling illuminated a glittering array of fine, silken threads canvassing the whole room. Thick, roughly carved pillars supported the ceiling, webs interwoven between all of them. Something wrapped tightly in more webbing hung from the ceiling in the center of the room.

                Taanyd crouched near the entrance to the cave, listening to the scuttling of the spiders as they emerged from their webs. She turned to face Ralof, who had been standing behind her.

                “Now, what we should do here-“she began to whisper, but groaned in dismay as she watched Ralof rip his sword from his scabbard and go charging into the room.

                She stood and stomped her foot. “Damnit, Ralof! Can’t you ever wait for just a gods-damned minute!?”

                It was clear he hadn’t heard her as he hacked away at an incredibly large Frostbite Spider that had skittered across the room to attack him. Taanyd charged forward as four more spiders lowered themselves from the ceiling and surrounded Ralof.

                She blasted the nearest dog-sized spider with her Flames, its hairy body jerking as it caught fire. Its fangs were dripping with venom and its glittery eyes watched her as it attempted to strike back. She summoned her Sparks spell in her free hand and blasted it with both spells at once. The bug fell onto its back with a screech, long legs curled towards its abdomen, and lay still.

                Taanyd felt something strike her in the back as another of the spiders shot its sticky venom at her. She stumbled forward, back instantly aching from the burning venom, but stayed upright, spinning on her toes to face off with the bug. Another blast of both her Flames and Sparks spells killed it.

                Ralof had dispatched two more of the spiders and moved to her side as an even larger spider came charging towards them. This beast was bigger than the carriage that had carried them to Helgen and for a moment Taanyd balked, her body stiff with fear.

                Ralof hacked away at one of the spider’s thick legs as it reached forward to strike at them. That brought Taanyd back to the present and she quickly armed both hands with her Flames spell, deciding fire would be the quickest route to the beast’s destruction. She shouted with the spirit of a Nord as the fire roared from her palms, igniting the spider’s furry body.

                The spider screeched and stomped, scurrying to the side faster than Taanyd imagined a thing so large could move. Ralof kept up with the spider, continuing to hack at its front legs and face. Taanyd tried not to look too hard as she continued her torrent of fire.

One of the spider’s massive legs shot out and struck Taanyd in the chest, knocking her on her arse and disrupting her spell. Ralof redoubled his efforts, wielding both sword and mace, and finally succeeded in hacking through one of the spider’s front legs. The spider stumbled forward, screaming. Ralof leaped into the air and plunged his sword into the spider’s eye as he came down. The thing screeched even louder as a rush of hot green liquid sprayed from the wound.

                With a twitch, the giant spider collapsed and Ralof used a relatively clean part of his cuirass to wipe the green goo from his face. Taanyd rose, chest sore, back still stinging from the venom and feeling the drain on her Magicka again. She sucked down a Potion of Minor Magicka to regain some of her power.

                Looking at the bodies of the massive spiders made Taanyd more than a little uncomfortable, so she quickly scanned the room for valuables instead. , However, all she found were a handful of mummified bodies littered among the dead spiders. Taanyd did not bother to investigate whatever the bundle was that still dangled from the ceiling.

                Ralof too seemed ready to quit the room. She followed him across the cavern where they met up with the little river again as it cascaded from a small waterfall.

                “I hate those damned things. Too many eyes, you know?” Ralof said after drinking another health potion.

                Taanyd nodded. “And too many legs and too fast and too damn big!”    

                Ralof chuckled.

                They followed the river once more as it rambled through a room even larger than the last, also supported by carved stone columns. Taanyd idly wondered who built this place. Did the residence of the keep even know all this existed?

                A narrow, hard-packed dirt bridge crossed over the river. Ahead, Taanyd spotted an old wooden wheelbarrow next to another stone brazier. With all the fires lit throughout every room, perhaps someone did still use these caverns, though she couldn’t begin to guess how anyone had survived the spiders.

                Taanyd made her way to the wheelbarrow, Ralof letting her take the lead. A few bottles of Alto wine rolled around inside, along with another pouch of coins, which Taanyd immediately scooped up. She happily added the ten or so coins to her loot.

                Ralof tapped her arm. She turned to see he was crouched beside her, pointing at a dark lump in the distance.

                “Hold up. There’s a bear just ahead, see her? I’d rather not tangle with her right now. Let’s try to sneak by?”

                Taanyd crouched as well, glaring at Ralof. “Wait a minute, _now_ you want to use a little stealth?” She jabbed a gloved finger into his chest. “You’ve ignored my suggestions and charged madly into every fray we’ve faced today, including one against a spider the size of a small house and yet the sight of _one bear_ awakens your sense of caution?”

                Ralof rubbed the back of his head and stared at his feet. “Bears are different. Bears are cunning and vicious.”

                Taanyd calmed herself, remembering only too vividly her own experience with a saber cat that left her with the three jagged scars that marred the left side of her face, just below her eye. She guessed Ralof once had his own battle with a bear and let up.

                “Apologies. I understand.”

                He met her eyes once more. “Are you any good with a bow? You could, perhaps, kill it from here. I’m a half decent shot, but after today, well, I doubt me whether I’d be able to kill it. I’ll watch your back though.” He drew his bow and knocked an arrow.

                Taanyd stood slowly and pulled the Imperial bow from her back, grabbing a steel arrow from her quiver as well. She crept forward, boots crunching on the rocks and dirt beneath her, the sound seeming to echo across the cave. The bear slept in a beam of sunlight, her back to them. Taanyd crept closer still, her body aching from how slowly she moved.

                When she finally felt comfortable she sent a quick prayer to Lillith, asking her to guide her arrow true. They’d spent much of their youth practicing archery together, but like many of her skills, Taanyd had let it grow lax over the past century. She knocked the arrow and drew back her arm, shaking slightly from the effort. When the bow was taught and Taanyd felt comfortable with her aim, she released the arrow. Quickly she slung the bow over her back and drew her sword and summoned her trusty Flames spell, readying herself for a fight.

                But the arrow flew straight and the bear let out a muffled grunt as the arrow struck deep into its side. The bear jerked once and then remained still. Ralof let out a “whoop!” of success behind her.  Taanyd rolled her eyes, but turned and gave him a small grin.

                They jogged over to the bear and Ralof knelt, making quick work of the beast with his dagger. Within moments he’d prepared a bearskin for her, which she added to her overloaded inventory. Grumbling, she gathered a few Imperial swords from the bag she’d enchanted earlier and dropped them into the pile of blood-spattered bones the bear had collected.

She would need to craft a stronger enchantment if she ever hoped to gather more treasure. When Lillith had first taught Taanyd how to enchant bags for extra storage, Taanyd was sure she’d never imagined it would be used to hold the armor and weaponry of the guards Taanyd had killed to save her own skin. In fact, Taanyd hadn’t imagined that either.

                Not noting anything else of value, the two continued through the room and into another small tunnel. Taanyd was in desperate need of rest, a warm bath and sustenance other than the potions she and Ralof had been downing. She wasn’t sure she could face another enemy, mentally or physically.

                Ralof gave a shout of joy as they rounded a corner and were greeted with a near blinding blast of sunlight.

“The way out! I _knew_ we’d make it!” Ralof said, grabbing Taanyd’s shoulder in excitement. He spoke as though Taanyd had actually voiced her thoughts of them not surviving the keep.

Before them stood another archway carved into the rock, fully lit with sunlight and Ralof and Taanyd grinned at each other before racing towards the tunnel mouth. Gleeful, the two burst from the bowels of the keep and into broad daylight, only to be instantly greeted with the roars of the dragon flying overhead.


	5. We Better Split Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd and Ralof finally make it to Riverwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose vidoes I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot. 
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Sorry for the unintended hiatus - hopefully I'll be able to update this more regularly now.

Taanyd’s heart leapt into her throat as she crouched behind a small shrub with leaves so sparse it didn’t truly provide any coverage. Beside her Ralof did the same, hand on his sword, for all the good that would do against a raging dragon. Taanyd watched the dragon circle above them and cursed the fate that would let her escape a beheading thanks to a dragon attack, only to be killed later by the selfsame dragon. But some of the divines must have been looking out for her and Ralof – perhaps even his god, Talos – because the dragon merely let out a roar before flapping its mighty wings and propelling itself up into the clouds.

Ralof and Taanyd stayed crouched until the dragon disappeared from view.

Ralof let out a sigh of relief as he stood. “Looks like it is gone for good this time.”

Taanyd took in their surroundings. A well-worn path edged by small trees and shrubs lead from the mouth of the cave down a hill. The ground and vegetation were dusted with a light snow and the air was crisp and chilly, but not freezing. Now that the dragon had disappeared, the only sounds she heard were the chirping of birds. No sound came from the cave behind them and there were no footprints in the snow aside from those of a rabbit.

Ralof scratched his head. “No way to know if anyone else made it out alive yet. But I imagine this place will be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We better clear out of here.”

Ralof started down the path and Taanyd walked beside him. She shivered in her robes, more from shock and exhaustion than from the cold air.

“My sister, Gerdur, runs a mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I’m sure she’ll help you out after all you’ve done for me.” Ralof clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have made it without your help, Turnip.”  
                Taanyd bit back a retort about her name and his inability to do anything other than charge, screaming, into every battle. “And I yours, Ralof.”

As path twisted and wound its way down the hill, the snow disappeared and the air warmed slightly. Taanyd removed her leather gloves and tucked them into her belt and pulled back her hood, relishing the feel of the sunlight on her face.

“You know, you should go to Windhelm, where Ulfric resides, and join the fight to free Skyrim. You’ve seen the true face of the Empire today. Also, if anyone will know what the coming of a dragon means, it’s Ulfric.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. For now, I’ll accept the offer of your sister’s hospitality. I can’t think beyond a hot meal right now.” She scratched at some dried blood on her robes. “Well, that and a bath.”

Ralof chuckled. “Aye, I understand.” He was silent for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, a sign Taanyd realized meant he was nervous. “Well, we should probably split up…” He glanced over at her, but continued to walk at her side.

Taanyd half agreed, thinking she should make her own way and attempt to separate herself from this civil war the Nords had going on. She needed to get her footing in this new country without an army of Imperials fighting for her head. Part of her sneered that she deserved to be alone – to suffer. She ignored both those thoughts and instead turned to Ralof and said “Why ever would we do that? We make a pretty good team, even when you’re bumbling into danger sword first.”

Ralof grinned. “That we do, Turnip!” He continued on with a little bounce in his walk. Taanyd swallowed sigh and wondered what she was getting herself into.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, they rounded another bend and the trees cleared to reveal a distant snow-covered mountain. Six massive arches, each several heights taller than a giant, loomed on the side of the mountain like gates.

Ralof pointed to the arches. “See that ruin there? It’s Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place. The stories I’ve heard…” Ralof shuddered. “I suppose you get used to it though.”

“What sort of stories?”

“Dark rituals, the dead rising and strange, evil magick.”

“No more than country stories, I would bet. You humans have a way with rumors and old wives tales.”

Ralof grunted. “Ah yes, for none have the superior knowledge of the elves, eh?”

Taanyd chuckled. “Well, the knowledge of the Altmer anyway!”

Ralof rolled his eyes and grinned. “Nonetheless, the place gives me gooseflesh just to see it.”

Taanyd wouldn’t say it aloud, but there was something ominous about the ruins built into the mountain and she didn’t doubt that there had been evil magicks worked there at one time.

The path continued to wind its way down the hill, the Barrow now always in view. As they turned around another bend, Taanyd noticed three strange stone pillars standing on a little outlook over the river. The pillars were squat, near Ralof’s height, with rounded tops and a perfectly carved hole that she could see through.

“These are the Guardian Stones,” began Ralof, ever the helpful guide. “There are thirteen ancient stones across all of Skyrim.”

“What do they do?” Taanyd asked as she approached the platform. The stone beneath her was crossed with thick vines and she was careful not to trip.

Ralof gestured to the stones. “Why not find out for yourself?”

Taanyd arched her eyebrows.

“They’re safe, I assure you.”

She noticed each stone had an intricate carving and stepped closer to examine them. The one to her right displayed a shirtless, heavily muscled man in a warrior’s helm, carrying a circular shield and longsword. The center pillar was carved with a man in what she guessed were mage’s robes, holding a staff and sporting an incredibly long beard and flowing hair. One arm was outstretched, as if to cast a spell. The left stone had a man in long sleeves and pants, with high boots and a billowing cape and hood, his face masked. A sword was strapped to his side and he clutched a pouch in one hand – some sort of thief then.

Taanyd was neither a warrior, mage nor thief, but she knew she _should_ be an adept mage at this point in her life, had she not neglected all her training the past few centuries. She turned back to the center stone and bent her knees so she could peer through the hole. At first, she merely saw the wide river flowing through the mountains, then her vision clouded slightly, the landscape misting over with a grey fog. A shadowy figure appeared, similar to the image carved in the stone – a man in robes with a flowing beard. He raised his hands to the sky and bursts of light bloomed from his palms and Taanyd could practically feel his power.

The stone’s message conveyed, the mist cleared and Taanyd was once again looking at the gently rolling river and greenery beyond. She stood to her full height again, the top of the stone coming just below her chin now, and tentatively held out a hand. To be sure, she looked over her shoulder at Ralof, who nodded.  She placed her hand on the carving of the mage and after a moment felt the rock heat up beneath her palm.

She stepped back in alarm as the stone began to glow. Swirls and spirals were carved into the stone above the hole and they lit up with an intense blue light. The carving lit up as well, but in a series of dots and lines – a constellation perhaps? Taanyd had never been one for astronomy.

The hole in the center of the rock was filling with more blue light that made a delicate chiming noise. Taanyd felt a strange warmth spread through her body and a tingling sensation ran down her spine as the light faded from the pillar. She could feel the magick from the stone reaching out to her own supply of magicka and hoped this would set her on the path to becoming the powerful mage Lillith always said she could be, if only she applied herself.

 _I’m finally trying now, Lillith,_ Taanyd thought.

Behind her Ralof spoke, bringing her back from her thoughts, “Mage, eh? Don’t know why I’m surprised, thinking back on all that fire and lightning you tossed around in the keep. Your kind are supposed to be the best at magick, aren’t they?”

She turned to him. “Yes, most of us are far more proficient at the magickal arts than any other race. I do hope to improve my swordsmanship as well. Maybe there’s a foolhardy Nord around these parts who could teach me?”

Ralof grinned and patted the hilt of his sword. “I might know a man willing to teach, if a mighty elf such as yourself could deign to learn from a mere human.”

Taanyd threw a playful punch at Ralof’s arm.

“Aye, you need lessons in hand to hand combat as well!”

“Arse!” Taanyd grinned again, scarcely believing she could bring herself to joke about anything after all she’d gone through recently. A twinge of guilt pulled the smile from her face.

Ralof, too, seemed to remember they weren’t free from danger just yet. He resumed walking at a quick clip. “Remember,” he said as Taanyd walked beside him, “this isn’t Stormcloak territory, so we’re not out of the cooking pot yet. If we’re ahead of the news from Helgen, we _should_ be fine, as long as we don’t do anything stupid.”

Taanyd cleared her throat and shot him a small glare.

“Aye, elf, I know. But, if we run into any Imperials, just let me do the talking, alright?”

“You mean there are times when you think and speak _before_ attacking?” Taanyd couldn’t stop the smart remark from escaping.

“You know Turnip, I was beginning to think I was glad you decided to come with me, but I’d clearly forgotten what a mouth you have!”

They’d been following the path that curved with the river, which now rushed along merrily, splashing loudly over little waterfalls, and Taanyd almost missed the faint howl that came from farther up the path. Instantly alert, Taanyd scanned their surroundings.

She grabbed Ralof’s arm to stop him and pointed ahead, her keen eyesight spotting a pair of wolves that waited on a hill some distance away.

Ralof squinted, clearly missing the predators.

“Those two brown shapes on the horizon there, those are wolves.”

He drew his sword. “Easy prey after all we’ve seen today, eh?”

Taanyd didn’t respond, merely summoned her Flames spell in her left hand and drew her Imperial sword with her right.

The wolves howled again, picking up the scent of man and mer, and charged forward. Taanyd and Ralof ran to meet them. The pair of wolves barreled down the grassy hill and while one scrabbled down a small rock wall to attack Ralof, the other leapt from an outcropping of dirt and stone, jaws wide and aimed at Taanyd’s throat.

Taanyd released a blast of fire into the wolf’s snarling maw while thrusting her sword from the side, directly into the beast’s throat. The wolf made a wet, choking noise as its body sagged, the full weight of it slamming into Taanyd. She lost her footing and fell backwards, tailbone hitting the stone path, the wolf’s burned face coming to rest on top of Taanyd’s own. With a disgusted grunt she immediately pushed the dead beast off herself, its carcass smelling of charred fur and its blood spattering her already filthy robes.

Taanyd tugged her sword from the wolf’s throat and wiped the blade on its matted fur. Ralof had already bent over the wolf he’d dispatched and quickly prepared her another pelt. He looked her up and down before kneeling before her victim and skinning it.

“You’re a messy fighter.” He chuckled.

Taanyd nudged him with the toe of her boot. “Says the man covered in spider blood.”

He handed her the second wolf pelt along with a silver ring, the band slim and set with a shining garnet. “Here, found this in your wolf. A battle trophy.”

Taanyd raised an eyebrow but slipped the ring onto the index finger of her left hand; at the very least, it would fetch her a few more gold.

They sheathed their weapons and continued along the path and Taanyd couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the nature surrounding them. They were well below where the snow fell regularly, mountains towering all around them and huge pine trees with lush green needles dotted the landscape. Wildflowers of all sorts sprouted up along the riverbed and the hills. The river next to the path was so clear Taanyd could see the fish swimming in it and she found it hard to resist the urge to dive in, robes and all.

“We’re almost to Riverwood,” Ralof said while Taanyd continued to take in their surroundings. This part of Skyrim was really quite pleasant when nothing was trying to kill her.

“Good, I’m exhausted.”

“You seem pretty energetic...”

“Well I’m not _that_ old. Still young, as the mer age.”

Ralof nodded then ran a hand through his hair. Taanyd marveled that it didn’t immediately become tangled in the dirty knots she could see.

“Er…” Ralof began. “So…your eyes, are they common among your kind? In a small village like Riverwood, or the Stormcloak camps in the woods, we don’t see many Altmer.”

Taanyd snorted. She’d wondered how long it would take for him to mention her milk-white eyes, devoid of any pupil or iris. “No. When I was a child – less than a century old – I was messing about with advance spells I had no business attempting to use. The result, well, blew up in my face and I was blinded. A…friend…” she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as an image of a young Lillith popped into her head, “A friend who was a very competent healer, even at that age, managed to restore my sight but unfortunately couldn’t repair the superficial damage.”

At first she’d been embarrassed, but eventually, knowing there was nothing she could do to change them, she had someone tattoo thick, sweeping lines on her lids and below her eyes, giving her a cat-like appearance and calling attention to the damage she’d done. Over the years this had proved to be a useful tactic for intimidation and kept many strangers from bothering her.

“Well they certainly make you look fierce, especially with that your war paint.”

“You don’t have to pay me any false compliments, Ralof. I’m well aware of how I look.” To steer the conversation away from herself she looked over at him. “Well aware of how we both look, actually. Horrendous. Will your sister even recognize you, or mistake you for some savage, come down from the mountains to ransack the town?”

Ralof let out a bellowing laugh. “She might, at that!”

They rounded a bend and a stone archway topped by a thatched roof came into view.

“Ah, Riverwood.” The relief in Ralof’s voice was clear.

The sun was just beginning its downward path and Taanyd was more exhausted than she’d ever been. The little town sitting right on the edge of the rushing river was a sight for sore eyes. Ralof picked up the pace, entering the town jog and Taanyd paused only to lay a small Fast Travel rune at the town’s entrance.

As she passed under the arch Taanyd could see a handful of wooden buildings on either side of the stone road and a few people moving between them, but overall the town was quiet save for the rushing of the river.

“Looks like nobody here knows what happened yet.” Ralof spoke over his shoulder. “Come on, Gerdur is probably working in her lumber mill.”

Taanyd followed him as he took a left off the road and crossed a wooden bridge over the river. It lead to a modest mill, its water wheel spinning steadily and a large pile of felled trees nearby. Ralof walked around the mill to a small yard shaded by trees. A blonde woman in a forest green gown was chopping wood, but stopped as she heard them approach.

“Gerdur!” Ralof trotted up to his sister and gave her a hug.

“Brother! Mara’s mercy, it’s good to see you!” They parted and she held him at arm’s length, no doubt assessing the damage that had been done to him. “Are you hurt? What’s happened? Is it even safe for you to be here? Last we heard, Ulfric had been captured.” She paused to look over his shoulder at Taanyd. “And who’s this? One of your comrades?” The suspicion in her voice was clear.

Ralof shook his head. “Gerdur, calm down. I’m fine now.” He gestured for Taanyd to step forward. “This is no comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life, in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There’s no telling when news from Helgen will reach the Imperials and we’ve much to discuss.”

“Helgen?” Gerdur’s voice rose an octave. “Has something happened?”

Ralof held up a hand to interrupt her.

“You’re right, best not to speak here. Follow me.” She turned and headed away from the mill, towards a small lake. She called up to the mill as she walked. “Hod! Come here a moment. I need your help with something.”

A voice rang from atop the mill. “What is it, woman? Sven drunk on the job again?”

Gerdur stopped walking and scowled. “Seven hells, Hod, just come _here_!”

A large, stocky man appeared at the edge of the mill, looking down at the group. “Ralof! What are you doing here?” The man, who Taanyd assumed was Hod, looked from Ralof to Gerdur. “Ahh, yes…I’ll be right down.”

Gerdur resumed walking to the lake as Hod came lumbering down from the mill. She stopped in a little clearing at the edge of the lake and stood in the shadow of a large tree.

A little boy came running up, also blonde, dressed in a red tunic and slacks and followed by a large, shaggy dog. He began speaking so fast Taanyd almost couldn’t understand him. “Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?” Behind the boy the dog wagged its tail.

Gerdur reached out and gently tapped the boy on the cheek. “Hush, Frodnar! This is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road and come find us immediately if you spot any Imperial soldiers coming.”

“Aw, mama,” the boy whined. “I wanna stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!”

Ralof crouched and chucked the boy on the chin. “Look at you, almost a grown man! Won’t be very long before you’ll be joining the good fight yourself. Why don’t you start by proving to me what a good scout you are?”

The boy perked up. “That’s right! Don’t worry, Uncle Ralof, I won’t let those rotten soldiers sneak up on you!” The boy took off at a run, dog at his heels.

By this time Hod had joined their group. A burly man in a dirty white shirt, his hair pulled back in a braid, he was quite a few inches taller than Ralof and cut an imposing figure. But his grin showed through his neatly trimmed beard and it was obvious he was happy to see Ralof.

“Now, Ralof, what’s going on? You two look pretty well done in?” Hod stood beside Gerdur and slung an arm around her shoulder.

Ralof sat on a large stump and Taanyd dropped down beside him.

“I can’t even remember when I last slept…where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us near the border of Hammerfell, like they knew exactly where we’d be. That was, oh, two days ago now? We stopped in Helgen this morning and I thought it was all over – they had us lined up at the headsman’s block and more than a few of us were executed.”

“Cowards!” Gerdur spat.

“They wouldn’t dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would’ve seen the truth then. But then, out of nowhere, a dragon attacked!” 


	6. A Much Needed Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taanyd and Ralof get a chance to recover from their misadventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit slow, but I always felt that after surviving Helgen, the hero of Skyrim would need a hot meal, a hotter bath, and a good night's rest.
> 
> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose videos I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot.

Gerdur gasped. “You don’t mean a live…”

                Ralof wiped a hand down his face and tugged at his beard. “I can hardly believe it myself and I was there! As strange as it sounds, we’d be dead if not for that dragon – not to say it didn’t try mighty hard to kill us. But in the confusion and panic we managed to slip away from the Imperials.” He looked around the sleepy little town. “Are we truly the first to make it to Riverwood?”

                “Nobody else has come up the south road today, far as I know.”

                “Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put family in danger, Gerdur, but…” Ralof trailed off and looked up at his sister and Hod.

                “Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials.” Gerdur stepped forward and extended a hand to Taanyd, which she shook.

                “Name’s Gerdur, as I’m sure you know by now. This beast here is Hod, my husband.” Behind her Hod grunted in mock offense, but smiled at Taanyd and Gerdur continued as if she hadn’t heard. “And that little rat you saw earlier is our son.”    

                Taanyd and Ralof stood. Before she could speak, Ralof introduced her. “This is Turnip, an Altmer but not Thalmor, and a worthy friend as any I’ve fought beside.”

                Taanyd wanted to be flattered, if only the idiot would stop messing up her name. She thought she heard Hod mumble “strange name,” but couldn’t be sure.

                Gerdur and Taanyd shook hands. “Well Turnip, I thank you for taking care of my little brother.” She dug around in a pocket of her dress and produced a brass key. “Here is a key to the house. Stay as long as you like and if there’s anything you need, let me know.”

                Taanyd held up her hands, as if  in surrender. “Please, you’re too kind. I cannot accept-“

                “Nonsense!” Gerdur interrupted, taking Taanyd’s left hand in a strong, callused grip and folding her fingers around the key. “If my brother speaks true and he owes you his life, our hospitality is a small price to pay. Besides, one such as yourself is bound to draw attention here, bloody robes or no, and it will be safer for us all if you hide out in our home until you figure out a plan for yourself.”

                Taanyd couldn’t argue with that point.

                Still holding Taanyd’s hand in her own, Gerdur spoke up again. “Actually, there is something you can do for us – all of us here in town. The Jarl of Whiterun needs to know there’s a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is all but defenseless! There’s not more than a handful of guards in residence at once. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf to send whatever soldiers he can. If you’ll do that for me, after you’ve rested of course, I’ll be in your debt.”

                Taanyd nodded. “Yes, I’ll deliver your message and no further debt is needed.”

                Ralof stepped up to hug his sister once more and Gerdur released Taanyd’s hands. “My thanks, sister. I knew we could count on you.”

                “I ought to get back to work, but did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric…”

                “Don’t worry, I’m sure Ulfric made it out. It would take more than a dragon to stop him.”

                A look of relief washed over Gerdur’s face.

                “I’ll let them into the house and, well, show them where everything is.” Hod gestured for Ralof and Taanyd to follow him.

                Gerdur sighed. “You just want an excuse to down a few bottles of mead.”

                Hod tried, and failed, to look innocent.

                “I’ll see you later, brother.” Gerdur made her way back towards the mill.

                Hod led them along another wooden bridge and back to the main road, if you could call the cobblestone path just wide enough for a cart a road. On one side of the road lay a large wooden building with a covered porch that housed what appeared to be a small smithy. Across the way were three more wooden buildings, one of which was the town’s inn and another advertising a merchant’s shop. The trio crossed the road and walked down a narrow dirt path that lead between the inn and merchant’s.

A few more houses sat within the town’s stone walls and Hod led them to a stone house with a small fenced yard. A shaggy brown cow grazed next to a couple clucking chickens.

                Hod led Taanyd and Ralof inside. The first thing she noticed was the large hearth with a blazing fire.  A table with several chairs sat nearby, the remnants of a meal scattered atop it. Hod walked over to a cabinet in the corner and gathered a few bottles of mead.

                Ralof gestured to a cast iron pot resting before the fire. “Help yourself. Gerdur is a good cook and I have no doubt that whatever she’s been brewing will satisfy you.”

                Ralof found himself a bowl and spoon and ladled the thick stew out of the pot. Taanyd did the same, enjoying the smell of herbs as the steam wafted to her face. Ralof sat himself at the table, pushing aside a few bowls and utensils to make room for himself. Taanyd sat across from him and Hod joined them with the mead, bottles clinking together as he set them down and seated himself at the head of the table between his two guests.  

                Taanyd shoveled the hot, but delicious stew into her mouth as Hod pressed Ralof for information about the dragon between gulps of ale.

                “How big was it, do you say?”

                “Didn’t exactly stop to size it up,” Ralof said between mouthfuls. “The beast was trying to burn us to a crisp! But it was bigger than anything I’ve laid eyes on before. Could swallow a man whole, easy, I’d think.”

                Hod whistled. “But what could have brought the beast to Helgen? I thought they were the stuff of legends anyhow. Never heard of anyone who saw a dragon, or even a rumor of one!”

                Ralof shrugged, broth dripping down his beard. “Got to be some dark magicks afoot.”

                Hod turned to Taanyd. “Any thoughts, Turnip? Your people are the best with magick, I hear.”

                Taanyd shook her head and took a swig of mead. It was a bit too sweet for her tastes, but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d had anything to eat or drink, so she couldn’t complain.

                “I surely don’t know of any spells strong enough to wake a dragon, nor even where they reside. I can’t imagine why someone might set one loose.”

                Hod drained his bottle of mead and rose for more. “If the dragon comes to Riverside, we’re in serious danger.”

                “I pray to Talos it doesn’t.” Ralof said grimly.

                A silence settled over the three of them as Taanyd and Ralof helped themselves to a second portion of stew while Hod continued to drink.

                After a round of hard bread and cheese and some more mead for Hod, Gerdur returned home from the mill with Frodnar and the dog at her heels. Hod was mildly drunk, but gave his son a warm hug and wrestled with the dog for a moment.            

                “Glad to see you’ve both eaten your fill.” Gerdur said as she began to clean up the table. “Would you care for a bath or would you rather just sleep?”

                “I, for one, would love a bath.” Taanyd spoke up. Now that her appetite was sated, she’d become acutely aware of her crusty robes and the horrid smell coming off both her and Ralof. Her sore muscles would benefit from a soak as well.

                Gerdur nodded. “I thought as much. Give me a moment and I’ll prepare the tub.”

                Ralof stood and stretched, his joints popping loudly. “I myself am going to take a dip in the river.”

                “Alright, but borrow some of Hod’s clothes so I can wash yours.”

                Ralof walked around the corner of the room, into what was Gerdur, Hod and Frodnar’s bedroom, Taanyd trailing behind him. A large bed stood at one end of the room with several chests and bureaus lining the walls and closer to the hearth there was a single bed. Ralof rummaged through a few drawers nearest the large bed and produced a grey shirt and black trousers that looked a few sizes too big. He shrugged at Taanyd.

                “Well Turnip, see you when we’re both clean!” He left as Gerdur dragged a large wooden tub indoors and told Hod to start fetching water. Hod brought Frodnar and the dog with him to bring in a few large buckets from the river.

Once was the tub was full, Gerdur produced a slim, light blue bottle from her shelves and poured it into the water.               

                Instantly the water began to steam. Gerdur grinned at Taanyd’s apparent confusion. “It’s a heating spell! Brought it off some old mage who came to town peddling odd household spells. We don’t use it often since there’s not much left and I wouldn’t know where to get more, but I didn’t want to make you wait for the water to heat up.”

                “You’re too kind.” Taanyd was already scolding herself for not learning even basic household magicks such as this.

                Gerdur told Hod to take Frodnar and the dog outside to play so Taanyd could bathe in peace. Once the door shut, Taanyd began taking off her robes, wincing from sore muscles. Gerdur busied herself at the table in order to give Taanyd some privacy.

                Leaving her filthy clothes in a pile on the floor, Taanyd sank gratefully into the scalding water. She hastily undid what was left of her braids and submerged her head too, scrubbing her scalp.

                When she surfaced, Gerdur held her clothes in one and hand a bar of soap in the other. “I’ll give these a wash.”

                “Thank you.”

Gerdur went out into the dusk and Taanyd had the house to herself. She spent several minutes scrubbing herself, rinsing off, then scrubbing again. She lathered up her hair and gave herself another soak and the water quickly turned a rusty brown.

                Despite the disgusting water, Taanyd soaked in the heat, letting her muscles relax as much as they could. She couldn’t stretch out her legs completely, as the tub was sized for a human man, but it was still the most comfortable she’d felt in a long time – possibly the first time in months, considering her long journey from home and everything that had happened to her since.

                Taanyd didn’t realize she’d been dozing, head leaned back against the edge of the tub, her hair dripping onto the floor, until she felt Gerdur’s hand on her shoulder.

                Her eyes flew open and for a moment she panicked, unsure of where she was. She raised a hand, ready to summon a spell, when it all came back to her.

                “Sorry to give you a start! Your robes are hanging in the yard to dry and I even managed to wipe down your gloves and boots.” Gerdur handed Taanyd a rough towel as she stood, water sloshing over the side of the tub. Taanyd wrapped herself up, luxuriating in the feeling of being clean. Gerdur motioned to a shift she’d laid out and some slippers. “Those should fit, though the dress will be a bit short. Your satchel is on that bureau there.”

                “My thanks, Gerdur. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

                After drying off, Taanyd slipped into the plain brown dress, noting that it only fell to her knees and slid her feet into soft goatskin slippers. She ran the towel over her head and was pleased to see that her hair was its usual deep brown, rather than a rusty black from dried blood. She twisted her hair back off her face in two thick braids, as was her usual fashion.

                She and Gerdur hauled the tub outside and dumped the brackish water at the side of the yard, just as the last of the sun’s light was fading from the sky. Hod and Frodnar stood at the edge of the yard talking with Ralof, who looked almost comical dressed in Hod’s large clothing. The dog came up to sniff at Taanyd and she held out a hand for it to lick. He brushed up against her dress, leaving a trail of hairs on the fabric, then bounded back to Frodnar. Taanyd grumbled and wiped at the hairs.

                “Can’t seem to keep yourself clean, eh, elf?” Ralof called.

                “Hush, you oaf. You look like a child in your father’s clothes.”

                Ralof and Hod both laughed as Gerdur called them all back inside.

                “There’s still plenty of stew, if anyone cares for a second helping.” Gerdur said as she gathered clean bowls and spoons from a cabinet.

                “Yes, please.” Taanyd and Ralof spoke in tandem and Gerdur chuckled.

                Once everyone, including Hod, who was more than a bit drunk, was served and seated around the table, Ralof began the tale of how he and Taanyd (or Turnip, as he tells it) survived the dragon attack.

                After the remainder of the stew was finished, along with Ralof’s recounting of the day’s events, Gerdur turned to Taanyd. “So, Turnip, what’s your story?”

                Taanyd looked startled for a moment, though she knew someone would ask her sooner or later. “Well, primarily I left the Summer Isle to escape the Thalmor,” unbidden, an image of Lillith screaming flashed in her mind and disrupted her thoughts. Gerdur cleared her throat after a moment of silence and Taanyd started over. “Yes, I needed to get away from the Thalmor. Skyrim seemed as good a place as any, primarily because it was far away. I did not realize how far-reaching their influence was however, until I found them presiding over the execution of the Stormcloak soldiers and very nearly my own execution as well.”

                Hod mumbled something under his breath about living under a rock, then burped loudly to cover it up. Gerdur shot him a murderous look.

                “Aye, how did you end up at a Stormcloak execution anyhow?” Gerdur asked.

                “Wrong place at the right time, I suppose.” Taanyd chuckled bitterly. “I was crossing into Skyrim from Hammerfell when I noticed a skirmish-“

                “Aye that was us, trying to escape into Hammerfell!” Ralof interrupted. “Those damn Imperials knew we were coming – there has to be a rat in our midst! Surely no one from my camp though; I honestly can’t think that any of them would betray us, or Ulfric.” Ralof scratched his, now clean, beard as he mused.

                “Curiosity got the best of me and I ended up sneaking into the woods to watch. As it would happen, a horse thief was making his escape from the Imperial guards at that time. Apparently he didn’t see me and the collision knocked me out. I woke up in an Imperial wagon with this oaf-“ she motioned to Ralof across the table. “Stripped of all my belongings. Those soldiers knew I wasn’t on their list, but their captain ordered me executed anyway. That bitch. So much for justice! That dragon was aptly timed though, wherever it came from. I was face down on the block and only seconds from being parted from my head when it arrived.”

                Gerdur’s eyes were wide. “Those Imperial bastards. They think they own every citizen in Skyrim!”

                “Aye! Ulfric’ll set them all to rights! He’ll shout ‘em down!” Hod slurred from the other end of the table.

                “Frodnar,” Gerdur turned to her son who was seated next to his uncle, taking in every detail he could. “Go put your father to bed and yourself with him.”

                “But Mama!”

                Gerdur merely stared at her son for a moment. He hung his head a little as he stood, giving his uncle a hug and grabbing his father’s hand to lead him from the table.

                “Woman, I don’t need a bedtime!” Hod grumbled, but he let his son take his hand as he stood.

Frodnar paused as he passed Taanyd. “G’nite elf lady.”

“G’nite human boy.”     

“He’s a good man,” Gerdur said as she watched her husband stumble around the corner to the sleeping area. “Just an idiot and a bit of a drunk. Harmless though.”

“He’s terrible at cards too.” Ralof added.

Gerdur sighed. “So, brother, what will you do now?”

“Lay low for a few more days. I’m not sure what news will surface from Helgen. And if anyone else survived that hellfire, they’ll start up a new camp somewhere ‘round here. I’ve no doubt they’ll send word to you, so I might as well stay.”

Gerdur nodded. “And you, Turnip? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ve plenty of work at the mill and could pay you a small wage.”

“I appreciate that. But I managed to scrounge up a few odds and ends from our time in Helgen’s keep that I should be able to sell to your merchant here. Then I’ll head to Whiterun as you asked and speak to the Jarl. I need to get a lay of the land, perhaps find somewhere to settle myself.”

“It’s a far sight from here, and frigid to boot, but there’s a mage’s college in Winterhold. I’m sure you’d find employ there with your skills.” Ralof added helpfully.

“It pains me to admit this, but I’m a far cry from a skilled mage, hell or even a novice one, and likely a disappointment to my race. I’ve sorely neglected my magickal studies almost all my life. If anything, I would need to enroll in the college!”

“Well, you impressed me. I sure as hell can’t shoot fire and lightning from my palms!”

“That’s because you’re a backwoods savage.” Taanyd smirked.

“You can’t ever take a compliment, can you, elf?”

“Perhaps I could from someone with an intellect to match my own, but not from some country bumpkin who marvels at the smallest bit of magick.”

Ralof sighed and stood, but he was grinning. “I can’t take any more of your nonsense-“ he interrupted himself with a yawn. “Well, it’s to bed with me then!”

Gerdur stood. “I’ll set up some furs and a bedroll by the hearth for you, Ralof. And Turnip, I’ve already told Frodnar he’s sleeping with us tonight, so you can have his bed. And no protests – I know I’m too kind, and I like it that way.”

Taanyd could only nod as Gerdur went to gather blankets for Ralof. Ralof came to stand by Taanyd who was still seated at the table. He looked down at her, his ruddy skin glowing from the firelight and dirty blonde hair finally clean and neatly braided. He fiddled absentmindedly with the end of one of his braids.

“If you prefer some, ah, company, you’re, well, you’re welcome to share my bedroll by the fire where it’s warm, eh?” He gave her a toothy grin.

                Taanyd stared up at the man, open mouthed. Ralof blushed.

                She recovered quickly. “You’re a bold man, Ralof, or perhaps just a pig.” She stood, stretching her calves and straightening her spine so she towered over him. The grin slid off his face and he looked worried. “But I’d eat you alive, and I’m simply too full tonight.”

                Taanyd flashed him a quick smile and moved to help Gerdur with the bedroll just as she came around the corner, arms full of blankets and furs. Ralof stood mute near the table, eyebrows raised practically to his hairline.

                After laying out a place for Ralof to sleep, Taanyd gave him a wink and followed Gerdur over to Frodnar’s bed. She’d been distracted earlier, but now the site of a comfortable bed, laden with furs reminded her of just how exhausted she was.

                She collapsed into bed, curling into a ball because her legs were too long, and listened to the sounds of Gerdur squeezing into bed with her husband and child and Hod’s soft snoring. She was asleep in minutes.

                _Lillith was struggling to keep up with Taanyd as they ran – that old wound in her thigh had never healed right, no matter how skilled she was with Healing magicka. Taanyd turned every few moments to be sure Lillith wasn’t too far behind. Her pack thumped heavy on her back and seemed to weigh more every minute._

_“We should split up,” Lillith called out. “I’m holding you back and you know it.”_

_Taanyd stopped running, lungs burning from her efforts and felt the trees closing in around them. She grabbed Lillith’s arms._

_“I’m not leaving you and you know it. I’ll carry you if I have to.”_

_Lillith shook her head. The trees moved closer, fencing them in, and the darkness beyond was full of the noises of war – explosions of magic, the death cries of the victims, vicious laughter. The pack sat like a stone on Taanyd’s back._

_“You’re not strong enough.” Lillith continued shaking her head back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster. “You were never strong enough! Never smart enough!”_

_Taanyd took a step back, struck by the vicious tone of Lillith’s voice. The pack weighed so much her knees buckled and she fell. Still Lillith shook her head, so fast it was a blur now._

_“Stop! Please!” Taanyd cried out as the trees pushed at her back, forcing her to crawl closer to Lillith._

_Lillith’s head stopped shaking, but her mouth was open wide, as if to scream. Her jaw stretched and stretched, teeth lengthening and growing sharp, sharp, sharp. Her skin darkened as her maw breathed hot, rancid breath into Taanyd’s face. Taanyd stared up into the glowing eyes of a dragon and she could see the spark of flames at the back of its throat as it prepared to incinerate her. The trees pushed her closer, into the beast’s jaws now. She was crawling on all fours, limbs shaking from the weight of her back, hurrying down the tunnel of the dragon’s throat and into the fire at the end. With a roar, a ball of flame flew to meet her, surrounding her, scorching her, burning her from the inside out._


	7. Meddling Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd gets to know the people of Riverwood and finds herself accepting her first quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose videos I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot. 
> 
> Also in the new year I aim to release at least one chapter a month, though hopefully two! Thanks for sticking around!

Taanyd woke with a start, damp with cold sweat. Gerdur’s dog was beside the bed, noisily licking Taanyd’s hand, but the house was otherwise deserted. She batted the dog away and stood, stretching her sore limbs. She found some porridge in the pot in the hearth and helped herself, occasionally rubbing the sleep from her eyes while she ate and glaring at the dog who sat tableside, begging.

Taanyd cleaned up after herself and left the house, the shaggy dog trailing her. The small yard was empty, save for the large cow and the sun was just peeking up over the mountain. She looked down at the dog, who gaped up at her, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

“Well, where’s your family?” she asked him.

The dog stared at her, wagging his tale.

Taanyd rolled her eyes. “I thought dogs were supposed to be smart creatures? Come; let’s go to the mill then.”

Taanyd set off down the stone path and around the blacksmith’s shop and towards the mill.  Before she saw anyone she could hear the whine of the large saw as it ground its way through log after log. As she neared, she spotted Hod in the mill building, hauling logs into the track that pulled them into the saw and the dog loped off to join him. Gerdur was behind the mill, where Ralof had found her yesterday, chopping wood. Nearby Ralof was practicing sword craft with his young nephew. Gerdur gave Taanyd a smile and Ralof stopped his mock duel and came up to greet her.

“Turnip! Didn’t want to wake you too early this morning, for fear you’d set me afire! You were thrashing something awful in your sleep.”

Taanyd grimaced. “Yes, I tend to be a fitful sleeper. Apologies.”

“Ach, none needed! Hod snores to wake the dead and there’s nothing worse than that!”

Over by the wood pile, Gerdur chuckled.

Ralof held up his sword. “Care for a lesson?”

“Why not? The gods know your nephew could likely beat me in a sword fight.”

Little Frodnar piped up from behind his uncle. “Can I try?”

Ralof chuckled and swatted at him. Taanyd and Frodnar took lessons in lunging, slicing, stabbing, parrying and dodging from Ralof for a few hours until the sun rose high in the sky and they were all too hot to continue. Taanyd’s muscles were extremely sore, but she felt she had a much better grasp on one-handed combat now and the exercise was a much needed distraction from her dreams.

Gerdur fed them all lunch and afterwards Taanyd decided to explore the small town. She spoke with the blacksmith first, a large, bearded man, selling him the weapons and armor she’d scavenged and learning a few smithing tips from him. Afterwards she headed for the Sleeping Giant Inn, figuring she’d have a drink and see if she could pick up any rumors. Ralof and Gerdur had mentioned there was still no fresh news from Helgen. She pulled up her hood before entering, not wanting her Altmer appearance to raise any questions or start trouble.

The inn was small but comfortable, all wooden with large columns and crossbeams and chandeliers made from some animal horn hanging from the ceiling. Plain, sturdy tables and benches lined the walls and a huge, rectangular fire pit blazed in the center of the room. The air was thick with smoke and the only sunlight came from small windows spanning the walls just below the roof.

There were a few doors at the far end of the room that Taanyd assumed were rooms for rent. A long wooden bar sat near the back wall and large barrels sat behind it, likely containing ale. Two stuffed buck heads looked down at the bar from the wall above it and a man with dark hair stood behind it cleaning a tankard.

A man sat hunched over one of the tables, staring into his tankard and a woman was sweeping the floor near the barkeep. She looked up when Taanyd entered and gave a small wave. “Welcome!”

Taanyd nodded her head. A man who’d been standing in the shadows at the corner of the room stepped towards her, strumming overly loud on his lute. He began to sing, slightly off key, and the man at the table tapped his foot.

Taanyd frowned at the bard, assuming he actually was one and not some relative of the owner, using the drunken daytime patrons for practice. As the man sang about someone’s head rolling around on the floor she studied him. He was younger and appeared to be a Nord, judging by his shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and sturdy features. Two delicate braids framed his face, their ends decorated with beads and he was clean shaven. His clothing was immaculate, white hose and a blue and yellow tunic, belted at his slim waist and looking a bit feminine in style. Even from a distance she could see his hands were clean and his nails well-trimmed - unlike her own calloused palms and chipped nails - and it looked to her like he’d never done a hard day’s work in his life. She disliked him immediately.

He moved closer, twanging away on his perfectly polished lute, grinning as he sang. She held up a gloved hand for him stop.

“A request from the newcomer, perhaps?” He asked. “I’ve a flute as well. Trained at the Bard’s College-“

“My request is for you to stop that racket.” She interrupted him. She thought she heard the sweeping woman chuckle.

The man frowned and grunted. “No need to be so rude about it, traveler. Perhaps where you come from, they don’t have such fine music?”

Taanyd turned away from him without further response and made her way towards the bar. Behind her the bard began squeaking away on his flute. The woman stopped sweeping as Taanyd approached and smiled.

“Welcome traveler,” She had a low voice and a serious look about her, despite her smile. She was middle-aged, blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid, and wore a leather corset over a heavy blue dress. There was a fierceness in her eyes and Taanyd suspected she was more than a mere innkeeper. “Name’s Delphine. Any food or drink I can get you? A room perhaps?”

“I’ve a place to stay, but some ale would be nice.” Taanyd did not offer her own name.

Delphine motioned to the man behind the bar and he moved to one of the large wooden casks to pour Taanyd a drink. She passed him a few coins as he handed her the mug.

“So, you’re the one who escaped Helgen with our Ralof, eh?” Delphine asked as Taanyd sipped.

Taanyd nodded.

“A quick word of advice – this is a small town and the blacksmith’s family support the Imperials. Late last night his brother-in-law, Hadvar, stumbled into town from Helgen. Hadvar knows some of us here support the rebellion and we’ve all stayed amiable enough in the past, but now that Ulfric’s rumored to have escaped…well I can’t say I think things will stay that way. Might be hard, but it’s best to keep clear from Hadvar if you can.”

Taanyd bristled at the mention of the Imperial solider that had so blithely sentenced her to death. By now the blacksmith would likely have told his brother-in-law about the high elf that visited his forge today. Taanyd would need to leave Riverwood soon, lest the solider get it in his thick skull to arrest her a second time. Ralof would need to be careful as well.

Guessing her thoughts, Delphine mentioned that Gerdur was aware of Hadvar’s return and would keep an eye on Ralof.

“I appreciate the advice.”

“So this dragon at Helgen, what can you tell me about it?” Delphine refilled Taanyd’s tankard and shook her head when Taanyd moved to pull out a few more coins. “This rounds on me.”

Taanyd recounted the short version of events at Helgen, focusing on the dragon and the destruction it caused.  She left out her journey to Skyrim, saying only that she’d been caught in the Imperial attack when trying to cross the border and knocked out. Delphine reiterated how Riverwood could use help from the Jarl. Taanyd explained that she planned to travel to Whiterun soon and inform him of the danger.

“I take it dragons are a rarity in these parts then.”

“More than a rarity – they were extinct. Skyrim hasn’t seen dragons for centuries. Something terrible is afoot if they’re appearing now…” Delphine trailed off.

Taanyd finished her ale and asked Delphine why she let the bard make such a racket in her inn.

Delphine chuckled. “Sven? Some of my patrons enjoy his…melodies. When they’re drunk anyway. His mother is older and can barely provide for herself, so he uses what little coin he makes here and at the mill towards her upkeep. Mostly I let him stay on her account. He’s been around so long I’ve learned to tune him out.”

Taanyd grunted.

                “He has been in a mood of late however.”

                “Oh?”

                “Well, the woman he’s sweet on, Camilla, has been courting with a Bosmer, Faendal. Sven is incredibly jealous and it seems his poetry and ballads aren’t doing the trick anymore. The songs he plays here have taken a grim turn.”

                “It’s a wonder they ever worked!” Taanyd stood and left her mug on the bar. She nodded to Delphine and made her way back towards Sven.

                He stopped playing his flute as she approached and opened his mouth to speak, but Taanyd spoke before he had a chance.

                “I hear your music isn’t winning over your woman anymore.”

                Sven’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Faendal thinks he can woo Camilla away from me. She’s already mine, I keep telling him.”

                Taanyd was mildly surprised at the man’s willingness to immediately share his problem with a stranger; less so at his referring to a woman as if she were an object.

                Sven continued on without comment from Taanyd. “Camilla Valerius knows I’m the best man in Riverwood. That _dirty_ _elf_ is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose _him_ over _me_!”

                Taanyd bristled at Sven’s tone. She’d become so accustomed to wearing her hood that she’d forgotten it was up. With her ears hidden and her face shadowed, the bard clearly didn’t realize he was speaking to another dirty elf. She’d just meant to irk him a little before she left the inn, as payback for his awful music, but now she decided to cause some trouble.

                Still Sven continued. “I’ve seen him sneaking over to the Riverwood Trader to speak with her when I’m not around. He’s wasting his time.”

                “He sounds persistent. Why not do something about it?”

                “You may be right. Camilla may see Faendal as little more than a friend, but why take chances? Here, give Camilla this letter.” Sven reached into a pocket at his waist and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

Taanyd felt she should have been shocked that a grown man was carrying around a fake letter in case a helpful stranger came his way, but judging by how ready Sven was to complain about his plight, it was clear he was not a very mature man. _Not quite the action I thought he would take._ _Children pass each other fake notes and hateful letters,_ she thought.

“It’s full of venomous nonsense. Tell her it’s from Faendal. It ought to convince Camilla to never speak to Faendal ever again.” Sven chuckled, likely thinking himself clever.

Taanyd slipped the letter into her own pocket and grinned. “Happy to help.”

“Return to me once it’s been delivered, traveler, and I’m sure I’ll find some way to reward you.”

Taanyd swallowed her response and turned from Sven as he picked up his lute and began twanging away once more. She left the inn and once she was outside she slipped around the back of the building to read Sven’s “venomous nonsense.”

His writing was spidery and the ink splotched all over the parchment – she wasn’t sure if this was his idea of how the elf would write or his true handwriting.

_Dear Camilla,_

_I know I have called upon you at your house many times, and while we may be growing close, I need you to put any desires you may have for me aside. I am a true-born son of Valenwood, and I could never befoul my bloodline by courting an Imperial. I hope we can remain true friends, provided you understand your people’s place in the Aldmeri Dominion, and respect me as such._

_Sincerely, Faendal_

Taanyd scoffed. Some bard, if this was his idea of venomous. If this Camilla had any true notion of the two men she’d been courting, it was likely that she would realize the letter was a fake, but Taanyd wasn’t going to leave that to chance.

She walked to the next building over, The Riverwood Trader, and stepped inside, lowering her hood – she did not want to be secretive now. The stony interior was dim; lacking any windows, it was lit only by sconces and a crackling fire in the large, stone fireplace. A wooden counter sat to one side of the room near a few large shelves, a chest and a dresser. Behind the counter was a middle aged man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He was arguing with a young woman in a yellow dress, presumably Camilla, who stood on the other side of the counter, near a cooking pot over the fire. Behind her a small table and chairs were nestled near a staircase that led to the floor above.

“I said no!” The man behind the counter huffed as he slapped his hand on the counter. “ _No_ adventures, _no_ theatrics and _no_ thief chasing!”

The young woman planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Well what are _you_ going to do then, huh? Let’s hear it!”

The man caught sight of Taanyd standing by the door and blushed. “We are done talking about this!” He turned to Taanyd. “Er – sorry you had to hear that!” The young woman stomped away from the counter and began to angrily stir whatever was cooking over the fire, clanking her wooden spoon against the sides of the pot.

The man cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you overheard, but the Riverwood Trader is still open. Feel free to shop. Lucan Valerius at your service.” He tilted his chin towards the woman by the fire. “And my sister, Camilla. You’re the one who came into town with Ralof, right?”

Taanyd nodded. “Pleased to meet you. Did something happen?”

Lucan grimaced. “Uh yes…we did have a bit of a break in recently. A group of robbers came in during the middle of the night. Before I could gather my wits they’d made a mess and left. We still have plenty to sell though! The robbers were only after one thing – an ornament, really. Solid gold, in the shape of a dragon’s claw. It’s been in the family for generations.”

Behind them Camilla sighed loudly.

Taanyd was silent for a moment. She needed to get to Whiterun soon, but perhaps doing these people a favor would be useful to her. Plus, it would add some extra coin to her purse. If she hoped to start a life in Skyrim, she’d need the gold to buy a place to live, or at least enough to rent from someone.

“Perhaps I could help you get the claw back.”

Lucan’s face lit up. “You could? I’ve got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It’s yours if you bring my claw back!”

Taanyd nodded.

Lucan thought a moment. “If you’re going to get those thieves you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow northeast of town.”

“That sort of cavern atop the mountain?” She recalled Ralof talking about restless spirits roaming the halls of the barrow.

“Yes, that’s the place. I overheard them talking about heading back to the Barrow as I came down the stairs to confront them. It’s the only place nearby they could have gone.”

“So, this is your plan Lucan?” Camilla spoke up from behind them and Taanyd turned to face her. She gestured to Taanyd. “To let some stranger seek out our family heirloom?”  
                “Yes, so now you don’t have to go, do you? Besides, look at her – she’s clearly an experienced adventurer. Far better suited to chase bandits than you!”

Taanyd managed not to grimace at being called an adventurer. Is that what she was? At least outwardly she appeared to be a suitable candidate to retrieve a valuable family heirloom and not the bumbling mage who struggled with even the most basic spells that she truly was.

Camilla’s hands went to her hips again. “Oh really? Well I think your new helper hear needs a guide.” There was a spark to this girl, despite looking suited to be a common housewife.

Lucan groaned. “No – I – by the eight, fine! But you’re only to show her to the edge of town!”

Camilla grinned, triumphant. “Well, stranger, let me know when you’re ready to set out.”

Taanyd smiled back. “I would appreciate the guidance.” She stepped toward Camilla. “I have some business with you, Camilla, if you can spare a moment.”

“With me? Of course! Sit down.” She gestured to the table and chairs, taking a seat herself. Behind them Taanyd could hear Lucan moving some inventory about and mumbling about headstrong women and needing strength from the gods.

“Can I call you something other than stranger?” Camilla’s voice was low and pleasant now that she’d calmed down.

“Turnip.” Taanyd blurted without thinking. _The gods curse Ralof! That stupid oaf has me forgetting my own damned name!_ She groaned, unsure of how to fix her mistake without looking like a complete idiot.

But if Camilla found her name strange, she didn’t bat an eye, merely stuck out her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you! And thank you again for being so willing to help us.”

Taanyd shook Camilla’s hand, feeling herself blush at her own stupidity. “Yes, not a problem.” She pulled Sven’s letter from a pocket in her robes. “I have something for you. Sven – I ran into him at the tavern and he related your recent…romantic dealings - he wanted me to trick you into believing this letter was from Faendal.”

Camilla took the letter, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about?” She unfolded the letter and took a moment to read it, her expression transforming into a scowl as she did so. She looked up at Taanyd when she finished. “He wanted me to think Faendal wrote _this?_ ”

Taanyd nodded. “I hope you don’t mind, but I read the letter. He’s upset that you’re not courting him anymore and he thought I might like to help him damage the reputation of your poor elf.”

Camilla scoffed and crumpled the parchment, tossing it into the fire. “Sven is a spoiled brat and a pig. I can’t believe he thinks I’m stupid enough to believe sweet Faendal would write that rubbish!”

“I let him think I would assist with his petty game, though I do my best not to meddle in other people’s affairs.”

Camilla placed her hand over Taanyd’s. “Thank you for telling me the truth – I’m glad you decided to meddle today. It’s become a fine day since you came around.” Camilla smiled again, her brown eyes warm. “Could you talk to Faendal, as well? I’m sure he’ll want to thank you for standing up for him. I also think he might be up for a bit of adventure, if you wanted some company better suited to chasing down bandits.”

“Yes, I can do that. Perhaps having someone come along would be best.” In truth, Taanyd hoped the other elf would accept. She severely doubted her skills would hold up in the face of several bandits.

“He should be at Gerdur’s mill about now. He’s the only Bosmer in town, you can’t miss him!”

Taanyd stood and was surprised when Camilla gave her a quick hug. Embarrassed, she merely stood still until the woman released her. Clearing her throat she turned back to Lucan who grinned at her.

She sold him the rest of her scavenged bits and pieces that the blacksmith wasn’t interested in and purchased a few potions as well. As prepared as she was likely to get, she left the Trader and headed off to find her fellow mer.


	8. Bandit Hunting We Will Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd and Faendal team up, have a bit of a training montage, and set out for the first big dungeon, Bleak Falls Barrow. Let's go kill some bandits!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose videos I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot.

Taanyd crossed the road, moving briskly past the blacksmith’s shop where he was hammering away at his forge and around to the mill for the second time that day. Hod was still slicing logs though Taanyd didn’t see Gerdur or Ralof. She did see a slim elf chopping wood into manageable pieces and stacking them in small piles. The Bosmer had dusky skin, clearly well-tanned from working outdoors often, with a pointed nose and sharp chin. His hair was a fine white-blonde and he kept it pulled back in a ponytail that trailed almost halfway down his back. He wore a green tunic and hose, a brown leather vest and she could see a bow and quiver resting against a nearby tree that she assumed belonged to him.

She cleared her throat as she approached and he set down his axe, wiping sweat from his brow. He was slightly shorter than her, but judging by the few wrinkles and laugh-lines she could see on his face, quite a bit older.

“Hello. Can I help you with something? Gerdur should be back shortly.”

“I’m actually staying with Gerdur; it’s you I’d like to speak with.”

Faendal smiled. “Ah, yes, you’re the mage who came in with Ralof! How exciting – I mean, a dragon attack would be terrifying I’m sure, but you both survived! I can only imagine what it must have been like to fight for your life against not only Imperial soldiers but a dragon! I mean, we all thought they were extinct and –” He interrupted himself, likely noting the bewildered look on Taanyd’s face. “Sorry for carrying on, bad habit of mine, I suppose - what do you need from _me_?”

“Well, I happened to encounter a most frustrating bard earlier and he thought to start a bit of trouble for you. But I decided to intervene and in doing so, met your Camilla as well.”

Faendal’s face darkened at the mention of Sven’s name.

Taanyd quickly recounted the recent events and when she finished, Faendal chuckled.

“That man is an idiot!”

“I heartily agree. A terrible musician as well. But I don’t think Camilla will be spending any more time with Sven.”

Faendal extended a calloused hand to shake Taanyd’s. “I appreciate your help – I’m sorry, I never asked your name!”

“It’s Taanyd, though I’m known to everyone else in these parts as Turnip.”

Faendal tilted his head questioningly.

Taanyd sighed. “Those Imperial idiots who tried to murder me butchered my name when I gave it. Since then Ralof has been calling me Turnip and can’t seem to pronounce my name correctly, so I’ve given up telling him otherwise. Now he introduces me as Turnip and I hate to admit, I mistakenly told Camilla that’s my name as well. So you might as well just go along with it.”

Faendal had a good chuckle at that. “I’m sorry, again. I don’t mean to make fun, but being an elf in these parts, well, I fully understand how most folk around here are puzzled by our _foreign_ names. I’ve been called ridiculous names myself, though unfortunately a favorite of the Nords is simply ‘Elf.’ I’ll call you whichever you prefer.”

Taanyd smiled. “I truly appreciate it. So as not to confuse everyone else, might as well just call me Turnip when they’re around.” She sighed lightly. “You know, I came to Skyrim to start my life over, but I didn’t think that would include a new name as well.”

Faendal shook his head, still smiling. “Well, Taanyd, I do appreciate your help with Sven. Here,” dug into an inner pocket of his vest and pulled out a leather pouch. “Please, take this. Some gold I’ve saved up from working at the mill.”

Turnip held up her hands. “No, no, you don’t have to pay me – that’s not why I delivered that letter.”

Faendal grabbed her left hand and placed the pouch in her palm, folding her fingers over it. “Of course you didn’t assist Camilla and me for the money. All the more reason to give it to you! And if you should need any assistance from me in the future, do let me know.”

Taanyd tucked the bag of gold into her own pouch – as awkward as it felt to accept, she did need the money. She tilted her chin towards the bow behind Faendal. “Are you a decent shot?”

Faendal’s eyes lit up. “I don’t mean to brag, but I am quite proud of my archery skills.”

“I ask because I’ve agreed to go after those bandits who took some gold claw from Lucan. Camilla suggested you might be willing to join me in raiding Bleak Falls Barrow.” Mindful that she’s just taken the man’s savings, she added, “Mind you, we’ll split any profits equally.”

“I’d be glad to assist! I wanted to go after those scoundrels myself, but had no clue where I might start. Of course they’d be up at Bleak Falls – it’s the closest place here that could be used as a hideout and bound to be abandoned. Oh! I could even give you some archery lessons if you like.”

Taanyd was amused by the man’s enthusiasm and hoped she wouldn’t soon be annoyed by his constant chatter. The two agreed to meet back at Faendal’s house in a few hours when he was finished with work for some training and then they would set out for the barrow early the next morning.

 

Taanyd took a short walk along the river to clear her head. She wasn’t at all sure what she was doing with herself, but had no doubt that Lillith would have approved, as she was using her time to assist others. _You’ve run as far as you could from your past and now is the time to start fresh_ , she reminded herself.

Before heading back to Gerdur’s, she did manage to hone her Sparks spell somewhat and succeeded in killing two hares and a rather large salmon, which she brought home for supper. Gerdur was pleased with the day’s catch, saying she’d make a stew for Taanyd and Faendal to bring with them the next day. Taanyd had explained her plans to Gerdur and found out that Ralof had already left town for a nearby Stormcloak camp in an attempt to avoid Hadvar’s grasp. Gerdur thought it wise that Taanyd was leaving as well and guessed that Hadvar would have left for Solitude by the time Taanyd returned, hopefully forgetting about her presence here in the process. She also added that Faendal was “a good lad” and would make excellent company on her foray into the barrow. Though she did mumble a prayer to Talos to watch over them and Taanyd recalled Ralof’s earlier stories of dark magick and risen dead. She kept her skepticism to herself this time.  

Taanyd left Gerdur just as Hod and Frodnar returned home and made her way across the path to Faendal’s cottage. She found him in his fenced-in yard as he finished setting up a practice target.  Chattering excitedly, he outfitted her with a long bow and a quiver of iron arrows and began instructing her in the proper way to hold the bow.

Recalling a mild interest in archery in her early youth, some of Faendal’s instructions awoke some of Taanyd’s previous knowledge. She caught on rather quickly, if Faendal did say so himself, and she was rather enjoying the snap of the bowstring as she loosed and arrow and the satisfying thunk it made as it sunk deep into the straw target.

Hours passed easily as the two elves shot arrow after arrow into the target and Taanyd would later swear to herself that she felt her muscles growing stronger and her archery skill physically building inside her as they practiced.

Sweating, the two were gathering up the last of the arrows as the sun began to set.

“Remarkable!” Faendal was saying excitedly. “I think you only missed a shot or two when we first started. You’ve got a natural talent. You could be a very successful hunter if you’re even half as good at being stealthy as you are at firing a bow. Why, no one around here truly seems to care for archery, except for the stray hunter that passes through these parts. I must say, it’s rather invigorating to be shooting again and to have a pupil that is not only attentive, but a star learner!”

Taanyd regarded him with silent, mild amusement.

Faendal chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to my rambles while we’re on our little bandit hunt. I can’t seem to help myself.”

Taanyd smiled at him. “I value your assistance, constant chatter notwithstanding. You’re sure you don’t mind hiking up to some old cave to tussle with a bunch of miscreants?” She looked at him seriously now. “It’s likely we’ll end up in a kill-or-be-killed situation more than once. I’ve no doubt you’re an expert at hunting local wildlife, but have you ever hunted another man before? Killed someone?”

Taanyd pushed aside mixed thoughts of joy and revulsion as images of her slaughtering that bitch Imperial captain flooded her mind. Had that really only been a couple days ago? It felt like another time in her life.

Faendal’s smile died. “No, I’ve never had cause to kill a man. But…I think…I mean, if my life, or yours, were threatened…well…I believe I could do what’s necessary.” The look in his eyes was doubtful however.

“You don’t have to accompany me. Already I feel more confident after our training.”

“Of course I’m coming with you. I said I would help you, and help you I will. But enough of this grim talk. Come inside for a drink?”

Taanyd nodded, realizing how thirsty she was at the mention of a drink. Faendal’s house was one cozy room, warmed by a large hearth that took up much of the back wall. Over the hearth hung a giant buck’s head which Faendal commented he had taken down himself. The floor was scattered with various hides, more of Faendal’s conquests, and a single bed and some shelves and bureaus nestled to one side, while a table and benches and some shelves for weapons sat in the other. The room was warm and smelled herbal.

Faendal gestured to the table and told Taanyd to make herself comfortable while he gathered two tankards and scooped ale from a nearby barrel. They drank in silence for a mere moment before Faendal started in about moving to Riverwood several years ago after leaving Valenwood once his parents died. He’d had dreams of becoming a hunter for a nobleman, but after entering peaceful Riverwood and meeting the lovely Camilla, Faendal changed his plans and settled here. He admitted it was a very pleasant place to live “for a Nord village” and Taanyd could understand Riverwood’s charms.

Unwilling to share anything about herself just yet, she questioned him about the unrest and rebellion in Skyrim before helping herself to a second tankard. Faendal kept up a mostly one-sided stream of chatter, explaining the unrest of the Nords and how they felt the Imperials were too much in the pockets of the Aldmeri Dominion because they signed the White-Gold Concordat. The final straw was the attempted outlaw of Talos worship and after Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak challenged High King Torygg to a duel and killed him, all hell broke loose.

“What the rebels want now is to regain Skyrim control from the Thalmor while eliminating them and place Ulfric on the throne. Personally, I don’t support the Thalmor’s aims, but I have to say that I don’t find the Nords treatment of other races, the Dunmer especially, encouraging. I wonder if we’d be trading one form of oppression for another, so I try to keep my head clear of the war, though I fear that even our small village will be pulled into it soon.”

Finally noting Taanyd’s continued silence, Faendal pressed her for details regarding her escape from Helgen, if she was willing to share. Knowing he’d likely prize the tale out of at some time or another, Taanyd recounted a fairly detailed summary of the events of her escape, even starting with how a panicked horse thief had unknowingly dragged her into it.

When she’d finished, with many interjections from Faendal, and the two had finished another two tankards, Faendal said merrily, “Well I can’t help but feel fortunate that events turned out how they did. You did Camilla and I a boon and I would like to think that perhaps Sven will think twice before opening his big mouth to a stranger!”

“I’d like to think about breaking that lute over his fool head.”

Taanyd and Faendal chuckled merrily, ending with Faendal hiccupping.

Taanyd stood and stretched. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I really must get back to Gerdur’s and get some sleep if we’re going to start our adventure early tomorrow. I don’t imagine those bandits will be up at the crack of dawn, so perhaps we’ll have the element of surprise on our hands.”

Faendal nodded. “See you tomorrow, friend.”

The night was warm and bright, lit by what appeared to be a full moon, and the town was relatively silent though Taanyd thought she could hear snatches of lute playing coming from The Sleeping Giant. Gerdur was mending clothing by the fire when Taanyd entered and had left her a plate of chicken, beans and roasted potatoes from dinner, which Taanyd ate cold.  Afterwards she changed into the too-short sleeping gown Gerdur had provided and tumbled into Frodnar’s bed, doing her best to tune out Hod’s snores.

She slept fitfully, but did not dream, or, at least, did not recall any when she woke.

 

Gerdur had woken Taanyd gently before the sun had truly begun to rise. After Taanyd dressed and collected her things – primarily her little magic pouch with what few gold and potions she possessed and the Imperial sword she’d kept for herself – Gerdur gave her a pack with some food and water, including the stew she’d made, and a couple more healing potions, as well an amulet of Talos.

Taanyd studied the amulet, which was carved from some sort of dark stone, muddled with green streaks. It looked like a double bladed axe, hanging upside down from its handle on a leather cord. Gerdur murmured that it was rumored to contain a magical blessing from Talos, but admitted that she knew little of that and simply believed it would keep the pair safe, watched over by her god. She said that it’s what Ralof would have liked her to have as well. Upon hearing his name, Taanyd felt a small pang at not having said goodbye to the man who helped saved her life.

Taanyd didn’t keep with any of the divines really; she’d always found religion tedious and had yet to see a sign that if these gods did exist, they took any notice of mortal affairs. Though she could admit she was quite fond of taking their names in vain! But she thanked Gerdur anyway and slipped the amulet around her neck, tucking it inside her robes.

Faendal was waiting outside, armed with his bow and quiver, with a short sword at his side. He handed her a second long bow and quiver, which she slung over her back. Faendal offered to carry her pack with their food, and anything else she might need him to carry, should she find her own inventory full. Reminded that she’d meant to find a way to strengthen the holding spell on her magical bag, Taanyd was slightly annoyed that she might not be able to bring back as much loot as she’d hoped.

The two set off down the cobblestone road just as the smallest sliver of sunlight was creeping over the horizon. Faendal paused at the Riverwood Trader and knocked lightly on the door. It opened almost immediately and Camilla stepped out, a maroon robe wrapped over her nightgown. The lovers embraced and kissed quickly, and Taanyd stared at her feet, trying to ignore the pain in her chest. Camilla gripped Taanyd’s arm lightly, causing the elf to look up.

“Thank you again for your help, Turnip.”

Taanyd glanced at Faendal out of the corner of her eye and saw him failing to hide a grin.

“Thank me when we return with your trinket.” Taanyd regretted how gruff she sounded, but Camilla remained smiling.

“Be safe, you two.”

Faendal gave Camilla another kiss, then she ducked back inside and he turned to lead Taanyd out of town.

The two crossed a stone bridge over the river and Faendal led them to a dirt path that diverged from the main road and traced its way up the mountain on which the barrow rested. Faendal paused a moment to look up at the barrow, looming over them in the dawn light.

“Those thieves must be mad hiding out there! I’ve heard the old crypts are filled with traps, trolls and who knows what else. Perhaps even dark magicks and evil necromancers! I do wonder why they stole Lucan’s gold claw and nothing else from the shop. Camilla told me they have other items worth just as much coin. Perhaps the claw is more than just some trinket Lucan picked up on a recent errand.”

Taanyd turned to him as they climbed up the path. “A trinket picked up on an errand? Lucan told me it was a family heirloom, with them for generations.”

Faendal shook his head. “No, no. Camilla said he brought it back with him about a year ago when he went out for more supplies to sell. Wouldn’t say much about it or where he found it, but he used to display it on his counter sometimes. It’s certainly a beautiful object, but I can’t help thinking there’s another reason the bandits took it.”

Taanyd scowled; she didn’t appreciate being lied to and would have a few words to say to Lucan upon her return, assuming she and her chattering partner didn’t get killed in the attempt to win back the strange prize. Pushing aside her doubts about her skills, she continued to follow Faendal up the path as it grew steeper beneath their feet.

The dirt path became less defined as they climbed and the trees were sparser. The air began to cool rapidly.  A pair of wolves jumped from the underbrush, but Taanyd and Faendal were ready for them and dispatched them quickly. If she’d learned anything since her hectic arrival in Skyrim, it was how to kill a wolf. Taanyd harvested a couple wolf pelts and found two gold coins on one of the dead beasts. She handed Faendal one of the bloody coins and felt a grim satisfaction in watching him pull a face as he gingerly handled the soiled coin, wiping it on some nearby grass before tucking it away in his pouch.

Soon their boots were crunching through a light layer of snow and Taanyd was surprised to find her robes were warmer than they looked. Faendal didn’t seem to mind the cold and was busy scanning their surroundings for more wolves. As they crested a small rise in the path, a crumbling stone tower came into view.

Both elves immediately crouched and Taanyd squinted, sharpening her eyesight as much as she could. The path ahead narrowed severely, skirting the edge of the mountain and the tower ahead of them seemed to perch precariously on the cliff’s edge. Taanyd could see a stone bridge leading to an open doorway in the tower and what might have been a staircase winding around part of outer wall of the tower. The old building appeared to be two or three stories high and the top was jagged, suggesting it had once been taller and perhaps fallen in on itself over the years. She wondered if there had been a castle attached to the tower that had crumbled off the side of the mountain due to poor planning.

“I can see movement…” Faendal whispered beside her. “Looks like…there’s someone outside the tower and I saw another person walk across the bridge and inside.” He pointed to what Taanyd had thought was a large shrub near the bridge, but turned out to be a bandit.

“Good eye. Let’s approach slowly and I’ll practice my archery.”

Faendal nodded. The wind had been blowing fairly steadily as they climbed and now it had begun to whip about them. Taanyd hoped the swirling drifts of snow would provide them a little extra cover.

Gingerly stepping forward, as slowly as she could, Taanyd drew her bow and knocked and arrow. Arms steady and eyes focused on the bandit standing guard, she continued to creep towards her prey. She heard the whisper of Faendal’s own bow, as he readied an arrow behind her.

The bandit moved and Taanyd’s heart skipped a beat, but he was just shifting position and remained where he was. Taanyd did her best to remain calm – it was one thing to fight for your life when trapped in a keep under attack from a dragon and surrounded by angry Imperial soldiers, but quite another to stalk someone they way a hunter stalks a deer.

Tuning out all other thoughts and ignoring the snow now stinging her face, Taanyd focused on the meaty leg of the bandit. She and Faendal had crept ever closer, silent and slow, and she was confident her shot would strike true. The man stood, arms crossed, staring straight ahead, but completely unaware of the threat lurking right in front of him.

She released her arrow and watched with narrowed eyes as it sped towards the bandit. It caught the man unaware, sinking deep into his thigh and she heard him cry out as he fell to the ground. Immediately his associate ran from the tower and as she crossed the bridge, both Taanyd and Faendal loosed arrows at her. Taanyd’s went a little wide, taken by the wind, but Faendal’s caught the woman in the arm. She staggered but kept running at them, an axe raised in her other hand and shouting wordlessly.

Faendal knocked another arrow but Taanyd slid her bow on her back once more and brought to life her Flames spell in both hands. Enjoying the warmth for a brief moment, she crouched low to keep her balance and then thrust both hands outward, palms forward. The woman was more focused on Faendal, who’d landed another arrow in the arm carrying the axe and Taanyd noted he wasn’t shooting to kill.

The woman was on them now, both arms bleeding from the arrow wounds, though neither seemed to affect her ability to swing the axe. She took a swing at Faendal’s head, but Taanyd sent a blast of fire from both hands into the woman’s face and she dropped to the ground, war cry turning to agonized scream. The cold air did little to hide the scent  of burning flesh but Taanyd let the flames pour out of her until the woman was silent.

Faendal stood beside her, bow at his side, staring at the burnt bandit with a sickened expression. Taanyd turned to him, small flames still crackling in each palm, and tried to think of something to say.

“She….” Faendal started, frowning. He shuddered and Taanyd judged it was more from the sight of a charred body than the sharp mountain winds.

“She was going to kill us. Shooting her arms full of arrows would hardly have made her amenable to a parley.”

Faendal tore his eyes from the body and met Taanyd’s. “There’s no need to be crass.”

“There is, Faendal. These people we’re going to kill will surely kill us if we don’t strike first. They’re not your neighbors or hardworking farmers. They’re men and women who have made it their work to rob those neighbors and farmers and many of them are more than happy to kill for coin. We are neither of us expert thieves, who can slip into this place unnoticed and pluck the claw from their bags. We must kill them and if you can’t do this, I understand. I don’t wish to shame you, but I need to know if I can rely on you in there.”

Faendal stared at her, mouth set in a thin line. Then his expression morphed to one of surprise and he darted forward and shoved Taanyd backwards so hard she immediately fell on her arse in the snow.

Above her the other bandit roared. “I’ll kill you filthy elves for what you did to Sharna!” He was swinging a greatsword wildly and it would have cut Taanyd in two had Faendal not pushed her clear.

The Bosmer had darted backwards after pushing Taanyd and had his own sword drawn. Taanyd quickly rolled away from the brute and when she regained her footing, let loose another blast of flames at the man’s back. She heard the clash of metal on metal as Faendal parried the man’s swing before he rolled to the side. The bandit turned – he was easily over six foot tall, a hulking mass of muscle and did not seem to notice the arrow in his thigh or that the back of his leather armor had been melted to his skin.

His wild eyes stared into Taanyd’s and he was breathing heavy. “Sharna!” he screamed as he swung at Taanyd. She quickly summoned her Sparks spell and as she dodged, jagged bolts of lightning shot from her palms and into the chest of the bandit. He seized up momentarily and before he could swing his greatsword again an iron arrow sprouted from his throat.

Taanyd did not stop her spells until the man fell to his knees, shaking and gurgling, as his leather armor blackened around him. Blood poured from his mouth, over his lips and he fell forward onto his face, still clutching his sword.

Both Taanyd and Faendal stood panting for a moment, before Taanyd lowered her hands and dispersed her magick. Faendal was still gripping his bow, white knuckled, staring at the corpse of the male bandit.

Taanyd approached Faendal slowly and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Hey.”

He looked up at her, his expression a mix of fear and anger.

“You saved me. Thank you.”

Faendal nodded. When he spoke his voice was strained. “I see what you mean about these people not wanting to parley.”

Taanyd barked out a laugh. “Come on then, let’s see what they’ve got for loot!”


	9. The Webs We Weave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd and Faendal explore Bleak Falls Barrow and wreak havoc with the bandits guarding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose videos I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot.

Taanyd knelt next to the massive bandit and salvaged what she could from him. A pouch at his belt held a handful of gold coins, a health potion and a silver ring. His leather boots could be sold and she handed his greatsword to Faendal.

                “Yours to keep or sell.”

                Faendal stared at the sword a moment before strapping the sheath to his back. Taanyd was doubtful whether or he could wield the weapon, but knew he was stronger than he looked.

                Taanyd moved to the woman, Sharna, next and quickly looted her armor, weapons and the coin she carried as well. Faendal had walked past the body already, doing his best not to look at it, and was moving towards the stone tower.

                Taanyd caught up with him as he was crossing the rough bridge that arched over a gap in the cliff. There was no door on the tower and the first room – if you could call it that – had a small window overlooking the cliff’s edge and a wooden staircase up to the next level. In a nook beside the staircase stood a little wooden table scattered with coins. Faendal swept them into his hand and counted them quickly, handing half to Taanyd.

                The stairs led the pair to another landing with a crumbling archway revealing a rickety looking wooden ramp that was dubiously secured to the exterior wall of the tower. The wind whipped at their clothes and Taanyd developed a sudden fear that the wind would simply blow them both off the ramp and to their bloody, broken deaths at the foot of these blasted cliffs. She suppressed the urge to turn around and head back down the mountain to the safety of quaint Riverwood. Instead she gently pushed Faendal to the side and stepped on to the ramp first.

                “Perhaps I should go first-“ he started to say but Taanyd held up a gloved hand to stop him.

                “I don’t need a man to lead the way, thank you.” She said more curtly than intended.

                “Taanyd, that’s not what I meant-“

                Ignoring him she crept up the planking, crouching to make herself less of a target for the wind and keeping her left hand in contact with the exterior wall. She heard Faendal sigh before stepping on to the ramp which creaked in protest.

                Sparks spell crackling softly in both hands, Taanyd followed the winding ramp to the next floor of the tower and entered something that actually resembled a room. The roof was mostly gone and both cloudy sunlight and snow drifted down into the tower. The floor had a thick layer of snowfall dotted with boot prints from the bandits and as Taanyd’s eyes followed the path from the door to a somewhat shadowed corner of the room she noticed another bandit.

                She felt Faendal come to a stop behind her and she motioned to the last bandit, who stood with his back to the door. He was leaning over a table and muttering to himself. He was dressed in rusted iron armor from helm to boots and there was a brutal looking mace at his belt.

                Taanyd crept into the room the slightest bit so she could allow Faendal a clear shot with his bow, then stood to her full height. She decided to try cupping her hands together, hoping to form her Sparks spell into a larger ball of lightning and was pleasantly surprised when it appeared to work.

                She raised the ball higher, hands shaking slightly with the effort it took to hold the spell in place and let the spell loose just as the bandit started to turn towards her.

                He let out a frustrated roar as the spell hit him in the chest and he stumbled backwards. But he was quick to recover, pulling his mace free and charging towards her. Faendal fired an arrow but it tinged harmlessly off his armor.

                “Aim for his face, Faendal!” Taanyd shouted as the bandit took a swing at her. She dodged to the side and slipped in the snow, falling to the floor and causing her spell to fly wide. She scrabbled away on hands and knees as the bandit swung at her again. She rolled away from him with only a minor scrape to her leg as the mace grazed her.

                She regained her footing just as Faendal drew his newly acquired greatsword. The bandit shifted his focus to Faendal and parried the slow but mighty swing from the elf. Taanyd called up her Frostbite spell and blasted the man with a jet of cold air and shards of ice. The bandit swung his mace high over his head, likely aiming to smash it down into Faendal’s own, but the elf took another mighty swing with his sword and it sunk deep into the bandit’s stomach where his armor had ridden up.

                The bandit folded over the sword with a groan, mace dropping to the floor with a thunk and Taanyd sent another blast of Frostbite into his face, finishing him off. The two elves stood panting a moment, Taanyd lightheaded because she was unaccustomed to the constant use of her Magicka and Faendal regaining his Stamina from using the large sword.

                “He’s all yours.” Taanyd said to Faendal as she staggered over to the table where the bandit had been busy. It was littered mostly with empty ale bottles and rusty tankards. She collected the coins that had been stacked into haphazard piles and then stepped carefully across a jagged section of flooring to another wooden staircase. She climbed to the top of the tower which was fully open to the sky and found a snow-covered chair and small chest. The chest contained fifty gold and as she brought it back down to Faendal she saw he’d donned the bandit’s iron armor. It was bound to be better protection than the modest hunting leathers he’d worn, though she wondered if he was getting in over his head.

                She handed him some of the gold and he took it silently, his face half covered by the horned helm.

                “Playing at being a bandit now?”

                Faendal shook his head and was quiet for a moment. “If I’m going to carry this armor around to sell later, I might as well wear it.”

                Taanyd studied him and he gave her a small grin. She hoped he would be able to weather whatever came at them next – she could barely handle her own feelings, let alone those of someone else and she didn’t think she had any more encouraging talk left to offer him.

                They made their way out of the tower and followed a worn path through the snow that lead them around an outcropping of boulders to reveal  the barrow, looming at the top of the mountain like some old beast. The pair crouched behind a boulder near the path and Taanyd paused to take in the sight, having never seen the like. Beside her she heard Faendal inhale sharply.

                Massive stone arches, each higher than the one before it, loomed before a large door carved into the peak of the mountain. Each arch had some sort of gargoyle or crenellation topping it and Taanyd couldn’t begin to imagine how such large freestanding structures could be build. Wide but shallow steps started from the snowy ground and led to a flat walkway and from there another set of steps led to the door of the barrow. Both steps and walkway were wide enough for a small army to walk up, horses and all.

                Taanyd immediately spotted a bandit patrolling the length of the walkway and another two walking up and down the large steps. They were clearly expecting company.

                “Who built this place?” Taanyd whispered, though there was no way the bandits patrolling the barrow’s steps could have heard her from their hiding spot.

                “I’ve only heard old legends and each one has its own theory; dragons, mages, the gods themselves. You know, I’ve never thought to come up here to see the place in person. I had no idea it would be so large. There must have been someone of great importance or power that lived here long before Riverwood was founded. Do you think perhaps a dragon lived here?”

                Taanyd rolled her eyes, though she was glad to see Faendal had dropped his sullen attitude. “How should I know if dragons lived here? This is your land, remember? Not mine. But it certainly looks big enough to house the dragon I encountered in Helgen.”

                “I think there’s more to this claw than Lucan admits.”

                “I think you’re right. Let’s find out, shall we?” Taanyd drew her bow again and set her sights on the bandit patrolling the far end of the walkway. She tracked the woman as she left the steps and company of her companions and made her way to a narrow plank of stone that jutted out over the cliff’s edge. Taanyd sharpened her eyesight, her view narrowing to contain only the bandit as she stood still for a moment, hands on her hips, studying the view or perhaps daydreaming of a warm fire.

                The shot was a long one and Taanyd held her breath. She focused her skill and as she loosed the arrow she knew the shot would aim true. Sure enough she could see the bandit stumble and fall backwards as the arrow punctured her neck. Taanyd felt a spark of pride at her newfound skill even though its use was bittersweet. She quickly reminded herself that strangers had been trying to kill her since she first entered Skyrim and decided not to dwell on it.

                She motioned for Faendal to follow and they ran in a crouch towards the massive stairs, the other bandits not having noticed the death of their associate yet.  Both elves had their bows drawn as they crept up the steps. Taanyd paused, ready to take a shot at the nearest bandit, when Faendal slipped on the snowy steps and fell to his knees, cursing quietly, his armor clanking. Taanyd glared at him.

                “Huh? Who’s there?” The nearest bandit, a massive Redguard, turned as he spoke and spotted them instantly.

                Taanyd slug her bow over her back and conjured up her Flames spell once more. She hopped up the last few steps so she’d have better footing as the man came at her. The other bandit stayed by the door and began shooting arrows at Faendal.

                Taanyd crouched and blasted the oncoming bandit with flames as he swung a two-handed axe at her. He was screaming and his muscles were bulging through his fur armor. Taanyd couldn’t help but think that he must be the definition of hired muscle.

                She slid away from him and he was too slow to stop his swing. While he followed through with his attack Taanyd continued to let loose her flames in his face. He stumbled to his knees and she drew her little Imperial sword and slit his throat before he could regain his footing.

                She turned and ran toward the other bandit who has having a shootout with Faendal. They circled around each other, hesitant to close the gap between them, firing arrows that appeared to be doing little damage. She didn’t know what they were playing at, but had no time for it. She ran towards the bandit, sword in hand. He turned towards her at the last moment and fired a feeble shot that struck her in the thigh. She grunted in pain, but didn’t slow, and soon she was on the man, ramming her sword into his stomach and pushing him back into the stone wall of the mountain.

                He cried out and instinctively gripped the edges of the sword to remove it from his bowels. Taanyd obliged him, slicing open his hands as she pulled her sword free and replaced it in the thick muscles of his neck. He gurgled and fell to the ground. Taanyd wiped her sword on his fur armor and sheathed it before leaning against a large pillar to pull the arrow out of her leg.

                “Mara weeps!” Faendal exclaimed as he ran up to Taanyd. “Where did that savagery come from?”

                Taanyd shrugged and pulled a potion from her pouch, pulling out the stopper with her teeth and spitting it out before downing the bottle. She dropped the bottle too and closed her eyes as relief from the pain washed over her and the wound in her thigh healed up.

                Faendal was still staring at her.

                “Come on, we’re not even inside yet and it’s already midmorning. The sooner we get this blasted claw, the sooner we can be gone from this place.”             

                Taanyd approached the double doors and noted the intricate, though worn, carvings in the stone. Despite her great height, the doors were at least half her height over again. Large, rusted metal rings hung about halfway up each door. Taanyd grabbed one with both hands and tugged. The door inched outward slowly. Faendal finally shook himself out of his stupor and came to her aid. Together they heaved one of the great doors open enough for them both to slip in.

                Taanyd immediately crouched and drew her bow while Faendal slowly pulled the door shut. A cavernous room spread out before them. Stones littered the floor along the walls, echoes of past structures and supports that had long since crumbled. A rough and rather weak looking pillar jutted up from the middle of the room to meet the arched ceiling. There was some sort of platform on the right side of the room and Taanyd could see firelight flashing off the walls at the far end. They heard voices, though the pillar blocked their view.

                “The dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than risking our necks. We’re not gettin’ paid to follow his every fancy.” A male voice grumbled.

                A female whined her response. “What if Arvel doesn’t come back? I want my share from that claw!”

                “Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble.”

                “Don’t you tell me to shut it!” the woman growled.

                The man only grunted in response.

                Taanyd looked at Faendal and motioned for him to follow her and stay low. As they neared the pillar she spotted several dead skeevers strewn about the room and a dead man in sparse fur armor, his bloodied sword inches from his outstretched arm. Next to the pillar a few steps led up to a platform where an ornate table rested and another dead body on top of it.

                Taanyd crept up the steps, moving to the right of the pillar so she could get the bandits in her sight. They were huddled over a modest fire, a few fur sleeping rolls at their feet and a skeever roasting over the flames. Both had their backs to the elves – so much for keeping an eye out.

                Taanyd and Faendal both took their shots at the same time, killing the male bandit with an arrow through the neck and one to the back. The woman turned with a shout, drawing her weapon and barreling toward them. Two more arrows stopped her in her tracks. Taanyd could feel herself growing more comfortable with the use of her simple bow and was glad for it.

                With the bandits dead, the only sounds in the room were the cracking of the fire, the occasional bit of skeever fat dripping onto the flames with a hiss and the ghostly echoes of the wind through the cavern. Taanyd and Faendal relieved the all the dead bodies of their gold and valuables and Taanyd even collected the skeever tails for future alchemical uses.

                Near the fire was another chest, locked this time. Taanyd pulled out one of the lock picks she’d scavenged and carefully fiddled with the lock. Within a moment she heard it click and couldn’t say she was surprised that this bunch of hired help didn’t invest in more secure locks. The chest yielded quite a bit more gold and a few spare weapons.

                A tunnel led them from the entry room and as they carefully made their way down the sloped floor, Taanyd uncomfortably noted the amount of spider webs that clung to the walls and floor and even spanned the width of the tunnel in parts. The webs were thin and sticky and they crackled lightly as the pair broke through them. Taanyd shuddered as the gossamer ropes stuck to her clothing, hair and face and she could hear Faendal muttering.

The tunnel turned left at the end and the elves were relieved to see the way was free of webs. Instead, thick vines had begun to grow over the walls, floor and ceiling and the stone was cracked and uneven. A large brazier lit the tunnel, indicating more bandits had come this way recently. They followed the curving tunnel, past more dead skeevers and glowing braziers. Around one bend they found a large metal shelf littered with old bowls and piles of cloth collecting dust. Taanyd did spot a Potion of Minor Magicka and happily pocketed it.

The path they followed grew more uneven and in places the walls had crumbled, leaving large rocks in their way. Swaths of vines grew intermittently along the way and constantly threatened to trip Taanyd and Faendal as they moved quietly along the path. A quiet wind and the occasional patter of falling pebbles and dust kept them company.

The tunnel sloped downwards once more and when they rounded a bend they could see the entrance to another room and another bandit with his back turned. He held a torch in one hand as he patrolled back and forth across the room. Taanyd crouched and drew her bow. She followed the man as he walked away from the doorway, scanning what must be the far side of the room he was in. As he turned to walk back towards her, she loosed her arrow and the bandit fell.

Faendal slipped in front of her, his own bow drawn, and trotted down a few more steps to scout the room. After only a moment he disarmed and motioned for her to follow.

The bandit lay slumped on the floor in the middle of a well-lit room with strange, bearded faces carved on the far wall and pillars with animal carvings to the left. A little stairway led up to a ledge that overlooked the room and the only door leading out was barred by a metal gate.

Faendal looted the bandit and then approached a large lever in the floor near the body.

He turned to Taanyd. “I imagine this opens the gate.”

“Wait.” Taanyd noted the pillars on her left had the same animals carved in them that the large faces had carved into what would have been their mouths. “I think it might be a trap.”

Taanyd studied the faces. Above the door, near the ledge was a face with a snake carved in its open mouth. On the floor near the body of the bandit was another, partially crumbled face, also with a snake in its mouth. The other face on the ledge had what she thought was some sort of fish. She moved over to the pillars by the wall. The first showed the snake carving, but the second showed the fish and the third some sort of bird.  She moved to the second pillar and found it was set on a platform that allowed it to rotate. She turned it so the snake was facing outward and changed the third so the fish was showing.

“Now try the lever.”

Faendal pulled the large lever toward himself, grunting with the effort, and the gate lifted. The next room contained a little altar area with a chest and a stone table. On the table Taanyd found another potion and a book titled _Thief_ with the author simply listed as Reven. Idly, Taanyd opened the book and turned a few of the dry, crinkled pages. Instantly she felt a little shock of magick run through her and somehow she knew a little bit about pickpocketing.

“Huh.” Taanyd closed the book and stored it in her bag.

From over her shoulder Faendal commented, “That’s a Skill book! Some authors are able to imbue objects with a bit of magickal knowledge and it gets passed on to whoever opens the book. You don’t even have to read the book! Though I imagine it might be helpful, as they could provide additional insight into the subject and of course the author did take the time to write the book in the first-“

He quieted when Taanyd shot him a glare. “I value the insight, but now is not the time for a lesson in artistic appreciation.”

Faendal coughed and moved over to the chest. This chest was substantially nicer than the others they’d encountered so far. It was made of dark, carved wood and trimmed with a lighter, varnished wood and the hinges were noiseless as Faendal lifted the lid. They were mildly disappointed when they only found seventeen pieces of gold and a worn looking pair of hide boots.

On the left side of the room was a roughhewn wooden staircase that spiraled down a pit carved deep into the stone. Taanyd very much wanted not to descend, but knew they must move forward. Sword in her right hand and her Flames spell crackling merrily in her left, she started down the stairway, finding it was more of a ramp instead. The boards groaned under her weight and some were slick with mold. Little clusters of spider webs dotted the stone walls.

Around and around they went, deeper into the pit, and Taanyd felt herself getting dizzy. Ever alert, she heard a strange scuttling, scratching noise and as they rounded another turn on the ramp a trio of skeevers launched themselves forward. Taanyd gave a startled yelp and slashed at the closest one, narrowly avoiding a bite from its jagged teeth. Faendal took out the second with an arrow and when the third paused to take stock of its not-so-potential prey, Taanyd blasted it with her spell.

“Yeugh,” Faendal grumbled. “Nasty vermin, skeevers. Carry diseases oftentimes. Did any bite you?”

Taanyd shook her head. She paused to listen for any further attackers then motioned Faendal forward again.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the pit and found themselves in a room covered with spider webs. A couple braziers gave off a hazy light that shimmered off the thick webs that hung from the ceiling and walls and roped along the floor and over the stone table at the center of the room.

“I don’t like the look of this.” Faendal said from behind her.

“You and I both,” murmured Taanyd as she carefully picked her way around the webs and across the room. Tattered, rotting banners hung from the ceiling and benches lined the walls. Taanyd once again wondered who built this barrow and why they would require some sort of meeting room this far belowground.

Another tunnel sloped down from the room and more webs spanned the walls and across the path. Faendal stepped ahead of Taanyd, cutting at the sticky webs with a sword he’d scavenged. The webs clung to the metal and left gossamer streamers in his wake. The tunnel devolved into crumbled arches and caved in passageways, all coated in thick strands of webbing. Braziers still glowed with fresh coals, lighting their way and Taanyd knew they were on the right track.

A larger archway was blocked by layers of webbing but Taanyd could see light coming through and when she and Faendal paused they could hear someone yelling.

“Help! Please! Someone!” It was a man’s voice.

“Could the bandits have a prisoner?” Faendal whispered.

Taanyd shrugged. “Possibly, or perhaps one of them has fallen prey to some sort of trap. Step back, I’ll burn these webs.”

Summoning her Flames spell in both hands, she stepped up to the thick wall of webs and, palms outward, unleashed dual streams of fire. The webs sizzled and cracked, splitting apart as the flames raced across the archway. Within seconds the web wall had burned away. Flames at the ready, Taanyd stepped through the arch and heard Faendal draw his greatsword.

Her blood ran cold as she realized she’d entered what was clearly some sort of nest or den for the spiders that must live in the barrow. Her thoughts flashed back to the giant spiders she and Ralof had fought as they fled Helgen and she did not want to repeat that battle.

Across the room the man called out. “Is...is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?”

Taanyd paid him no mind, distracted by the huge clusters of white egg sacs that clung to the stone walls and sat in the corners. Thick webs were scattered across the floor and walls and as she looked up, even the ceiling. Panic kicked up her heart rate and she felt as though hundreds of tiny spiders were skittering all over her skin.

“Gods have mercy!” Faendal cried out from behind her.

The man across the room screamed. “No. Not again!” His voice rose several octaves as he continued to yell. “Ah, kill it. _Kill it_! _Get me out of here_!”

Taanyd’s mind took a moment to process what the men were seeing. Her eyes traveled up the walls, over more clusters of egg sacs, and to a large, web-covered hole in the ceiling. From that hole something was descending in stilted, jerking motions. It wasn’t much smaller than a shack and at least three times Taanyd’s height.

Arrows flew over her shoulder as Faendal shot at the enormous spider. It landed with a thud, facing Taanyd and Faendal, two of its hairy front legs raised and fat fangs dripping with venom.

“Azura’s tits,” Taanyd cursed. “Not again!”


	10. The Walking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taanyd and Faendal move further into the barrow and discover the horrors that await them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim belongs to Bethesda - I'm just playing around in their world. In addition, game dialogue belongs to Bethesda (though I'm playing with that too) and I'm using the script found on GameFaqs - https://www.gamefaqs.com/pc/615805-the-elder-scrolls-v-skyrim/faqs/69918
> 
> Also thanks to all the Let's Players out there on Youtube, whose videos I watched a zillion times so I could remember the layout of different dungeons and whatnot. 
> 
> -
> 
> Woof, sorry it's been so long since my last update! I don't mean to slack. :/

Faendal rushed past Taanyd, sword drawn and shouting, to hack at the thick trunks of the spider’s legs. The spider was skittering left and right, dodging most of Faendal’s swings and spitting gobs of venom at both him and Taanyd. Realizing the Bosmer needed her help, Taanyd shook off her shock and summoned her Flames spell. She built a large fireball between her palms, trying to focus on the quiet crackle of the flames and not the chittering and clacking of the disgusting arachnid.

Making sure Faendal was clear of her shot, she launched the fireball toward the spider. The flames scorched up one of its hairy legs and it screeched. Faendal took advantage of the momentary distraction and swung at the leg nearest him. His sword bit deep and green blood sprayed from the wound. Faendal hacked at the leg once more while Taanyd sent another ball of fire into the spider’s face.

The beast screeched again and darted forward, seemingly unhindered by one broken leg, and fired more gobs of venom at Taanyd. She dodged backward clumsily, her boots sticking to the thick webbing on the floor. She let loose a torrent of flames as the spider neared, but felt her magicka draining rapidly. Behind the spider Faendal was chopping at as many legs as he could and beyond him someone else was still shouting.

Taanyd drew her own measly sword and slashed at the spider’s hairy face, trying to ignore the glare of its many beady eyes. Legs thick as small tree trunks slammed down beside her, trying to knock her over. She dropped to the ground and rolled under the beast. As the spider turned, Faendal leaned down and grabbed the back of Taanyd’s robes and hauled her out from under it, helping her to her feet. Together they stabbed at the massive body of the beast, striking it wherever their weapons could reach. Green gore oozed everywhere and the spider made a keening sound.

Feeling slightly revived, Taanyd blasted the spider with fire once more as it turned to face them and Faendal drove his sword point through one of its eyes. With a final gurgling cry the spider slumped to the ground, bloody legs giving way beneath its fat body.

Taanyd and Faendal stood panting and covered in guts and blood. Numbly, Taanyd took two health potions from her pack and handed one to Faendal before drinking her own.

“Help! Let me out of here!” Behind them the voice still cried out.

Taanyd was still staring at the gargantuan spider, stunned that she had previously considered the ones she and Ralof faced in Helgen to be massive.

“That….I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d heard tales of giant spiders, but I never imagined…” Faendal trailed off.

“Please, would you two _let me out_?” The man shouting behind them really was a nuisance.

“I suppose we should free the bastard, eh?” Taanyd grumbled, wishing her hands were a bit steadier as she tossed aside her empty potion bottle.

Faendal suddenly noticed the large egg sacs lining the room. He turned to her, eyes wide. “You don’t think—“

“I don’t know anything about these thrice damned creatures.” Taanyd interrupted. “But I don’t want to stick around here and find out if they’ll hatch or not. Let’s go see what this bandit bastard knows about the damn claw.”

They turned and found a man thoroughly captured in a thick net of webs strung across the only other doorway leading from the chamber. His face, a bit of his chest and a foot stuck out from the webs, but otherwise he was completely enveloped. Faendal let out a muttered noise of disgust and Taanyd hoped he didn’t notice the definitely body-shaped bundles similarly wrapped that were strewn about the edges of the room.

“You! You two did it! Now cut me down before anything else shows up.” The man growled in a thick accent.

Taanyd narrowed her eyes. His face was dirty and a slim mustache drooped around his mouth. What could be seen of his armor was in disrepair and his eyes were shadowed beneath a helm that was a bit too large for him. She didn’t appreciate his lack of gratitude and decided not to be forthcoming with a rescue. He was a bandit, after all.

“Who are you and what are you doing down here?” Taanyd called up her Sparks spell and let a small ball of lightning crackle against her palm. Faendal had sheathed his sword and drawn his bow. His arrow was pointed at the ground but she had no doubt it would be swiftly raised at any sign of trouble.

“I’m Arvel the Swift. Cut me down now and I’ll be pleased to make your acquaintance, lady.” He squirmed inside the webbing.

“Instead, how about you tell me where you’ve hidden the golden claw, Arvel?”

Arvel groaned. “Oh, the claw. I know how it works – the claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together! Help me down and I’ll show you everything. You won’t believe the power the ancient Nords have hidden here.”

Faendal glanced at her, eyebrows raised. She was mildly surprised he didn’t launch into his own line of questioning.

Taanyd asked Arvel to hand over the claw first.

“Does it _look_ like I can move, elf? You’ll have to cut me down first. Come on; get me out of this stuff!”

Taanyd sighed. “Fine. Faendal, cut him down.”

Faendal slung his bow over his back and removed one of the steel swords he’d scavenged off the dead bandits. Taanyd raised both her hands, lightning crackling between them. Arvel continued to squirm and wiggle as Faendal started cutting the thick, sticky webs. Many of the strands stuck to the sword, dulling its edge. The bandit was muttering encouragements and was soon thrashing, pulling great swaths of webs away from his body as Faendal freed him from the doorway.

“Sweet breath of Arkay, thank you!” Arvel exclaimed, pulling the last of the webbing free from his legs.

Taanyd lowered her hands slightly and was about to ask about the claw again when Arvel turned and bolted down the hall leading from the room.

“Fools! Why should I share the treasure with anyone?” He yelled as he ran.

Taanyd swore and darted after him with Faendal at her heels. She rounded a corner in the short hallway and as she did so, Arvel came into view as he entered a small room. She loosed her lightning and the thief fell as the spell hit him. He convulsed on the stone floor and she quickly drew her sword. He tried to stagger to his feet, but she was on him too quick and with a slice his throat was cut wide. His eyes bulged as he gurgled and clutched at his throat, soon landing on his face on the floor.

Faendal walked up to her side. “Did you have to kill him? He was going on about some secret room and using the claw…”

“Nonsense. We’re far more intelligent than this lout. I’ve no doubt we can figure out whatever puzzles lie ahead without any trouble.”

Faendal pulled a face, but didn’t argue. Taanyd knelt and rummaged through Arvel’s pockets, quickly pulling out a battered leather bound notebook and what was clearly Lucan’s claw. Worn with age, it was slightly larger than her own hand, with three curved talons engraved with scrollwork. The underside of the claw had three circles with a detailed carving in each – a bear, a moth and an owl. Taanyd handed it and the journal to Faendal while she stripped Arvel of his armor.

Faendal had the journal open and it looked as though only a couple pages had been written on.

“Anything worthwhile?”

“It says here that this claw is the key to the barrow and that Lucan had no idea what power he possessed. He also writes the claw must be used in the ‘Hall of Stories’ and that ‘when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.’”

“Let’s find the hall then.” Taanyd took the journal and claw back and they moved on, leaving another corpse in their wake.

They wound through another corridor that opened up into a sizeable hall with rectangular niches carved into the walls, two high. The room was lit by crackling braziers in big stone basins set atop carved outcroppings near the vaulted ceiling. Not for the first time Taanyd wondered how this place stayed so well lit. _Were all the sconces and torches maintained by magic? If so, whose?_ Cobwebs hung across some of the niches and Taanyd shivered, instantly alert for more spiders.

The room had a faint stale smell, akin to rotting leather, and it felt too quiet. Taanyd motioned for Faendal to keep an eye out as they walked slowly downhill and further into the strange chamber.

Faendal’s rusty iron armor creaked as he moved, echoing through the silence and Taanyd cringed at the racket. She didn’t understand why he didn’t change into any of the fur armor they’d looted. He was a hunter for the god’s sakes; he was supposed to be stealthy.

She turned to glare at him and he grinned and put his palms up in supplication, silently asking what else he could do. She sighed, knowing he meant well and that she should cut the poor Bosmer some slack, but she still believed he had no idea what he’d signed up for. She wanted to turn him lose and send him home to his lady love, but, much as she hated to admit, she felt she needed him not only for the company he provided in this strange place, but for his skills in battle when her magick was so pathetic.

She turned away from him, moving further into the room. It opened up with fat columns sprouting from the center of the room and more cubbies carved into the walls. A few torches were flaming in sconces around the room and they cast flickering shadows.  Taanyd slowly approached one of the niches and realized it contained a mummy of sorts. Scanning the wall in front of her she saw each one contained a body – they were in some sort of burial hall. Behind her Faendal creaked again and then let out a strange, growling cough.

“Shhh…” she hissed at him as she made her way slowly towards a mummified body clad in rotting leather armor.

“That wasn’t me!” Faendal whispered back.

Another low, hoarse growl echoed through the room followed by a soft shuffling sound. Taanyd instantly crouched, summoning her Flames spell and whirled around. Faendal was facing her and behind him, one of the bodies in the wall was _sitting up_.

“Hells! What is that?” Taanyd pointed behind Faendal as the corpse stood, bowlegged and swaying . It shuffled towards the two of them, groaning and growling, with a rusted sword clutched in its bony hand and scraps of rotted cloth clinging to what might have been a female body once.

Faendal spun and then took a jump back when he saw the animated corpse. Several niches down, another corpse was rising, this one clad in the remains of leather armor. Taanyd let loose her spell at the corpse that had just risen while Faendal moved to swing at the one closest to him.

Taanyd’s fireball struck dry, leathery skin and the bewitched body stumbled, but didn’t fall. Glowing eyes stared at her as it approached faster than she would have thought possible. It held an old battle axe in one hand and took a swing at her. She dodged to the side and as she did so, heard another raspy growl from behind her.

She turned to find yet another of the walking corpses, this one with armor in slightly better condition, a helm and a long sword. Extending her arms out to each side she sent forth a spout of Flames from both hands, hitting both of her attackers but doing seemingly little damage. She unsheathed her sword instead, hacking at the well-armored corpse and sending it staggering backwards.

She’d been pushed towards the opposite end of the room and as the mummy stumbled backwards it stepped on a large, round switch set into the floor. With alarming speed a spiked metal gate swung forward, smashing into the mummy and sending it flying across the room where fell in a heap on the floor, dead…again?

Taanyd turned to face the other corpse and raised her sword to block its oncoming blow. The corpse growled, sending a gust of stale air in her direction. She thrust her sword between its ribs where the armor had rotted away. Her sword made a hollow thunk as it made contact with bone and the corpse growled again, rotted teeth gnashing. It pushed itself farther onto her sword in an effort to claw at her with a bony hand.

Taanyd released her sword leapt backwards. An arrow sprouted from the side of the mummy’s head and the blue glow of its eyes dimmed as it fell to the floor. Faendal stood on the other side of the room, two more of the creatures dead nearby.

Taanyd approached the corpse and tugged at her sword, but it remained stuck in the dried muscle and skin of the skeleton. Putting her foot on the thing’s chest, she gripped the hilt with both hands and pulled the sword free, a cloud of dust issuing from the hole in the skeleton’s side as she did so.

She stared at the corpse for another moment. She could see wisps of hair still attached to the sides of its skull like cobwebs and even a shadow of a beard. It was clear that the armor it wore had once been finely made, as so much of it held up after who knows how many years it had lain in the cavern.

She looked back at Faendal. “What in all the hells are these things?”

“They must be draugr. I’ve heard tales of them-“

“Of course you have,” Taanyd muttered.

Faendal shot her a glare, but continued. “They’re Nords that were buried with the Dragon Priests of old, said to be their servants and intended to protect them in the afterlife. I can only imagine what dark magicks keep them alive.”

“Dragon Priests?”

“I don’t know much about them, except that they wielded incredible magicks.”

“Does that mean there’s one somewhere in the barrow?”

“I haven’t a clue, but we’d best keep an eye out. If there is, it’s bound to be far more powerful than any of these soldiers.”

Taanyd must have let her worry show for Faendal quickly added, “But, this could just be the burial ground of some old king and these draugr some sort of honor guard. I’m not an expert in these matters.”

Taanyd might have mumbled, “Oh really?” before shaking her head and looting the leathery corpses. Her search turned up only a few gold coins and some Bone Meal. She left behind their rusted weapons.

“Let’s keep moving and keep a sharp eye out for any more of these draugr.” She paused before the switch in the floor, the spiked gate having reset itself against the wall, waiting in the shadows for the unwary. “And watch out for this switch.”

Faendal nodded.

“Oh, and Faendal?”

“Yes, Taanyd?”

“Thank you.”

Faendal grinned like a child on a feast day and Taanyd turned away from him, swallowing her own small smile.

She moved past the deadly gate and into another small, rounded chamber. Ahead of her she could see another corpse tucked into the wall, outfitted in rotting leather armor, arms crossed over its chest. Taking no chances this time, she crept forward as slowly and she could and once she was in firing distance, let loose a bout of flames from both hands.

The draugr immediately began to growl and struggled to sit up. An arrow zipped over Taanyd’s shoulder, landing in the glowing eye-socket of the draugr. She kept up her flames for a few more seconds and no sooner had the undead soldier managed to pull himself out of his niche, he fell to the floor, unmoving.

Another echoing growl issued from her right and Taanyd could see long shadows moving across the floor. Faendal slipped past her and carefully made his way down the ramp and into the lower portion of the room, bow drawn. A draugr archer, his own rotting bow drawn, came into view and fired at Faendal. The shot missed and Faendal let his own arrow fly as Taanyd drew her bow.

Two more draugr came lumbering into view, both armed with swords and shields and one wearing a helmet. Taanyd let loose several shots at the helmeted draugr, sending him staggering backwards away from his comrades. As Faendal finished off the first draugr, Taanyd slid down the ramp and used her Flames to set fire to the closest draugr, who, judging by its tattered shift, had once been a woman.

“Dir Volaan!” the draugr croaked as she swung her sword at Taanyd’s neck. Taanyd sidestepped and kept blasting her flames at the corpse. Finally, she stumbled to the ground, blue lights in her eye sockets extinguished.

Taanyd looked up to see Faendal battling the last draugr, who was much better at using a shield than Taanyd expected the undead would be. She drew her bow again and sent an arrow into the thing’s chest, stunning it and allowing Faendal to land a death blow to its throat.

The two stood panting for a moment, listening for any more of the ominous growling. They heard only a strange whispering, grinding noise, but saw no movement from the other tombs lining the room.

“That one spoke to me.” Taanyd pointed at the female draugr. “Did you hear it?”

“No, I was a bit preoccupied. But if they can wield weapons and defend themselves, it stands to reason they can talk as well. I imagine they likely speak a much older dialect than we do. Perhaps even the language of the dragons!”

“Well, it’s unsettling.”

Taanyd quickly looted the draugr, picking up several ancient looking arrows, a steel ingot, a few more coins and even an amethyst.

The pair scouted the rest of the room quickly, checking the other corpses and skeletons for signs of life and finding none.

“Found the source of the noise.” Faendal called from the other end of the room. He was standing near an archway that led to a narrow hallway. Inside the hallway three large blades swung back and forth like a pendulum, the two on the ends going one direction, the one in the middle the opposite. As they moved they made a metallic slicing whoosh.

“Excellent. More traps.” Taanyd grumbled.


End file.
